


Work in Progress

by nalasan



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nalasan/pseuds/nalasan
Summary: When Axel meets his new co-worker at K.H. Industries for the first time, he feels strangely intrigued.When Roxas meets his co-worker at his new job at K.H. Industries for the first time, he feels vaguely irritated.Theirs is a story of mutual feelings and different perspectives. It’s about the issues with the family you were born into and the family you find along the way and how to combine the two. It’s about friendships and growing up, about mystery tours and beach weddings, about birthday cupcakes and potted plants and haunted kitchen cupboards. It’s about falling in love and choosing your path in the world.





	1. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Axel’s pretty sure there’s a particular place in hell reserved for the person who invented Mondays. He hopes there’s also a special kind of torture for whoever came up with today’s version of Monday.

It starts with the coffee machine being broken. 

Axel stares at the handwritten “out-of-order“-sign with an empty mug in his hand and feels the first itch of an oncoming headache rising to his temples.

“Ah yes. No wonder Xigbar looked especially grumpy today,” a calm voice says behind him. Axel turns around to see Zexion from accounting, who walks past him to set down a jar of instant powder he must have gotten from the kitchen cupboard of doom. Axel adamantly refuses to open it since the last time he dared to crack the door open, a plastic container hit him on the head and he had to shake mouldy tea leaves out of his hair for the rest of the day. He’s pretty sure there’s some demon living inside and he’s not going to take his chances until he’s found an exorcist. 

“I already forced Demyx to order a new coffee machine,” Zexion says, and Axel hates how alert he looks at what’s not even half past seven, seemingly unperturbed by the lack of caffeine. “It’ll be here on Wednesday, he says.”

Axel grunts out a reply and dumps half of the instant powder into his mug. It won’t taste good, but it’ll keep him alive until he can sneak down to the cafeteria during lunchtime.

He’s yawning when he enters his office and turns on his computer with a practised motion that is almost second nature by now. He slumps down in his chair, sips on the coffee-substitute and wonders why Xion is running late. What secures his attention a moment later, however, is a hissing sound coming from his monitor. Axel stares at it with rising apprehension while the hissing continues. Suddenly, the monitor blinks rapidly and runs a number of colourful pixels over the screen before the sound climaxes in a cacophonous screech. A few sparks ignite at the side and shower Axel’s favourite mug. He hastily steps back, trips over his chair, lands on his ass and curses vehemently.

The monitor goes blank.

A few tendrils of smoke rise from the black plastic shell. Axel stares at it for a moment, holds his breath and releases it only when no further sounds or sparks are forthcoming from the presumably deceased machine.

“Well, _fuck_ ,” he exclaims loudly.

Someone clears his throat behind him and Axel tilts his head back far enough to spot the man standing over him, eyeing him with a distinctly displeased expression.

“Morning Saïx,” Axel greets his manager, contemplates it for a second and then decides to make the effort to stand up.

Saïx is viewing him with mild disdain, which is nothing new. What _is_ new, however, is the face behind Saïx, peering out behind his back and staring at the smoking remains of Axel’s monitor with an expression caught between surprise and pity.

“Axel. Please ask Demyx to order a new monitor for you,” Saïx says, eyeing the damage in front of him with a neutral expression. It takes more than a little explosion in the morning to rattle him. “We should still have a spare one in the supply room. You can use that one in the meantime.” He turns to the young man waiting behind him, and Axel finally gets a better look at him. The kid doesn’t look a day over twenty, with blond hair standing up in carefully styled spikes. His clothes are clean, his shirt is ironed, his blazer looks brand new and shit, Axel has been around long enough to know where this is going.

“ _Another_ intern?” he huffs, forgetting about the technical trouble in light of this much more pressing problem. “Are you serious, Saïx? I mean, fuck, Xion is pulling her weight by now, but we really need someone _qualified_ , not another college kid with no experience _or_ common sense only good for making copies and getting cof…”

“I would like,” Saïx interrupts him, and Axel hates that his voice never changes from the level, clearly pronounced monotone. “…to introduce you to your new co-worker, Roxas Hikaru.”

Axel blinks. The new kid is no longer looking at him with pity. Instead, he is glaring at Axel with his arms crossed in front of his chest. The expression on his face has changed to vaguely murderous.

 _Interesting_.

“Co-worker, huh?” Axel says. Saïx nods, “With Naminé on sabbatical leave, I’m aware that your team needs some support.”

Axel looks over at the two desks by the window. One is cluttered with small plants, shells and weird rocks, with postcards taped to the wall behind it. Xion has really made this _her_ space in the eight months she’s been here. The desk across from hers is empty except for an assortment of colourful pens in three mugs and a stack of envelops, piling up and almost spilling over the slightly dusty keyboard.

“We do,” Axel sighs. Saïx nods again, apparently satisfied with the answer, and turns to the new kid.

“In this case, Mr. Hikaru, I’ll leave you with your new colleague. I’m certain,” he shoots a long look at Axel, a clear warning hanging in the air between them, “that he will show you everything you need to know.”

He stalks out of the office and leaves Axel alone with the new kid, who is glaring at him like he’s thinking about the best way to kill him and dispose of his body discreetly. Axel is briefly tempted to walk out behind Saïx, but well – there _is_ something intriguing about the new kid staring daggers at him as well.

“So,” he says, scratching the back of his head and searching for inspiration as to what to say. “That probably wasn’t my best attempt at a first impression,” he says and tries his most charming grin, the lopsided one which always works on Demyx.

The kid is still staring at him. His expression hasn’t changed.

“I’m Axel,” Axel says and extends his hand. He hates handshakes – they always feel too formal, too stiff, never right. But at the moment, he wants to offer the kid something, and that’s all that social convention has available. The kid eyes him for a moment and then grabs his hand and, oh, _okay_ , yes, he’s definitely trying to prove something with that handshake.

“Roxas,” he says, and the hissing emphasis on the “s” sounds only vaguely menacing. “Which desk is mine?”

Axel discreetly flexes his fingers, feeling just a little bit enamoured with the fuck-you-attitude the newcomer is putting up.

“The one across mine,” he says and points at the last, the only truly unoccupied desk, and huh, he’s going to look at that face now every time he looks up from his work, isn’t he? “Let’s hope the tech hasn’t decided to go all suicide-pact on us today.”

Roxas walks over to the desk and drops his bag to the floor. Axel actually holds his breath when he turns on the computer, but it just hums the low, comforting sound it’s supposed to make.

“I’ll call Larxene from our technical support,” he says, “She’ll get you all set up: email, password, internal login...”

Roxas nods, and then hesitates for just a second, before he asks, “So, where do I start?”

Axel frowns. The last colleague he had to work in was Xion, more than eight months ago, and, okay, to be fair, Naminé had done most of it. He knows there’s a list somewhere on the intranet, running him through what to do with a new co-worker. Which he could probably access _if_ he had a working computer.

“I guess… I’ll just run you through the basics? Show you the programmes and the projects we’re currently working on?” He glances at the clock. Damn, where _is_ Xion when he needs moral support? “I guess you already had a look at our website?”

“Of course,” the kid says and he’s looking at Axel again like Axel’s personally offended him. “I, like, prepared for my job interview? I know everything about _K.H. Industries_ that you can find online. Including,” he frowns, and there is a sceptical sense of suspicion in the way he’s looking at Axel, “the feedback from former employees.”

Axel grimaces, because yeah, he’s seen that website too. _Jimminy’s Intel_ is pretty popular with the companies in town, and he knows many people who’ve shared their workspace experiences online. Quite a number of his former colleagues found very choice words concerning the management after Xemnas kicked them out, and well, he can personally confirm that they’re technically not wrong in their assessments.

He doesn’t quite know why, but he thinks it’s probably fair to be upfront with the new guy. Well, as upfront as he _can_ be.

“Okay kid, look,” Axel says, rubbing his temples because oh yes, there’s the headache he’s anticipated ever since this day began. And it’s not even past eight yet. “I know we got off to a weird start, but let me make that up by giving you a head’s up, okay? I know the sign on our door says _public relations/marketing_ , and sure, there’s all that. Website, facebook, the local news, other companies, and, most fun of all, clients yelling at you on the phone. And who knows, one of these days we might even convince Saïx to arrive in the twenty-first century and let us make a company’s twitter account. _But_ -“ and he pauses for effect. The new kid is looking at him with raised eyebrows, arms still crossed in front of his chest. “- that’s not all. We’re also the dumping ground for whatever task the management needs to get done that doesn’t require someone with special skills. So if Saïx asks you to prepare a presentation or to go through the numbers of last year’s sales or to read up on marketing studies or to go get a gift basket for whoever Demyx offended on the phone, you better do it. Because the last two people who said ‘But that’s not in my contractually agreed area of work’ had their ass out of the door before they could do so much as blink.”

The new kid is still staring at him. He seems unimpressed with Axel’s little speech.

“I don’t need you to look out for me,” he huffs. “This is not the first job I’ve had, and I doubt it’ll be the most challenging. And stop calling me ‘kid’. I haven’t been one for nearly two decades.”

“’kay,” Axel says, still a bit impressed with the kid’s attitude. Before he can stop himself from making a bad situation worse, though, he hears himself ask, “How old are you anyway?”

The kid – no, Roxas – narrows his eyes at him for a second, but says, in an almost resigned tone, “Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight in exactly three weeks.”

Axel blinks. His first thought is _No way!_ , but he stops himself from blurting that out, because he trusts the kid – _Roxas_ – to know his own age.

“You look younger,” he offers, almost in way of apology, and Roxas grimaces, “Trust me, I’m aware.”

Axel is glad that Xion chooses this moment to rush through the door, cheeks flushed from either the cold February wind or from running. “I’m so sorry Axel, the bus was…” she stops in mid-sentence when she sees Roxas, who suddenly looks nervous and rises from his chair a couple of inches, in a gesture that looks half polite, half defensive for sitting in her office.

 _Cute_.

“Xion, rejoice and celebrate,” Axel grins, spreading his arms wide. “For our prayers have been answered: our mighty overlord has finally granted us some support. This…” he points at the other man, “… is Roxas. He’s working with us.”

Roxas is glaring at him again, and Axel finds himself weirdly enjoying it. Perhaps there’s something good about this Monday after all.

* * *

After his first two weeks at the office, Roxas can’t decide whether he likes his new job or not.

The work itself is okay. Thus far it’s not particularly challenging, at least, though it’s a lot. Giving the fact that he lied about some of his experiences on his resume (he can work with word, excel and the adobe layout programs just fine, but what the hell is _keyblade.13.02_ supposed to be? Or _caOBLVN_?), he originally expected to run into problems by now, but so far, he hasn’t done anything more complicated than to write emails, make a few presentations or update a couple of tables. He can see that Xion and Axel are careful to only give him tasks they think he can handle, and for the moment, that’s alright with him.

He likes Xion. She is quiet and efficient, with a dry sense of humour that surfaces at the most unexpected moments. She takes great care to show and explain everything he needs to know with practiced patience.

At first, he suspects she might be a bit of a pushover, the kind of colleague who slaves away quietly because the others overburden her with work. He notices the way Saïx drops folder after folder on her desk without further comment, or the way Axel tends to talk over her (well, Axel talks over _everyone_ , but still). It takes him some time to see the way Xion sorts through the folders, re-stacks them according to a private system Roxas doesn’t yet understand, and occasionally drops one or two of them on Axel’s desk or in a desk drawer. He notices the way she sometimes looks at Axel when he’s talking a mile a minute; a measured, but not unfriendly look that makes Axel stop mid-sentence and smile sheepishly. He notices how she is always infallibly ahead of both him and Axel, and his respect for the quiet girl grows daily. 

Axel, on the other hand, is, in lack of a better word, puzzling.

After his initial impression of the other man, Roxas decided to label him “kind of a mess”, “patronising” and “bit of a jerk”. The past two weeks, however, have led to a few more nuanced observations.

Axel is loud and straightforward, talks constantly and utters profanities so regularly that Roxas almost doesn’t notice anymore after his first week. He only seems to own black and grey clothes, which admittedly go well with his bright red hair and too-green eyes, colours which Roxas almost suspects to be fake. He’s good-looking, Roxas admits grudgingly. He also quickly realises that Axel is _very_ aware of that fact, given how he sometimes grins at his reflection in the window. He can be extremely charming; both with his co-workers and with clients, but only when he _wants_ to make the effort, which especially regarding clients apparently isn’t that often. More than once Roxas catches Axel grimacing at an incoming call and looking over at Xion’s desk with pleading eyes, asking, “Xion, Xehanort is calling again. Could you perhaps…?”

To which Xion either answers “Sure” with a resigned sigh, or a determined, “No.” In the first case, Axel assures her that she’s his favourite person in the entire world before he connects the incoming call to her phone. In the second scenario, he groans and takes the call himself, his voice sugar-sweet, rolling his eyes at Roxas pointedly whenever he makes the mistake to meet Axel’s gaze.

During his second week, he begins to keep track of how often Axel can weasel his way out of uncomfortable situations by using his charisma. With Xion, his success rate seems to be roughly fifty percent, which might be less to blame on Axel’s charm and more on the fact that Xion is a really nice person. With Saïx, he has zero success, which doesn’t surprise Roxas. Saïx is the most aloof person he’s ever met. With Demyx from the reception desk and Larxene from tech support, his success rate is alarmingly high, but Roxas takes comfort in the fact that other people, like Marluxia from innovation management or Zexion from accounting, remain utterly unimpressed by Axel’s antics.

Xion is the first person Roxas turns to whenever he has a question. He prefers her direct, precise way of communication – Axel answers his questions, sure, but _never_ without getting side-tracked. A simple explanation as to how to add dates to the company’s calendar ends with him detailing the last staff outing, and a careless remark about the dress code earns Roxas a fifteen-minutes-long anecdote about that one time when the management tried to make everyone wear black suits and the company collectively revolted.

When, after these side notes, Axel finally arrives at the answer Roxas was looking for in the first place, he finishes every explanation with the same, complacent question, “Got it memorized?”

At first, Roxas grinds his teeth at the patronising tone and chooses it ignore it. It takes him a few days to notice how Axel actually waits for an answer, his grin cocky but his gaze attentive. Roxas makes the mistake of answering “Sure” once, and is treated to a dazzling smile by which he feels personally attacked.

Another thing about Axel that bugs Roxas is the fact that Axel has absolutely no concept of personal space. Whenever he walks around their desks to show Roxas something on the screen or explain a program Roxas is unfamiliar with, for some reason he finds it necessary to touch Roxas. It’s not really intrusive, per se: a hand on his shoulder, a friendly elbow to his ribs when he’s done something right. At first, Roxas thinks it might be an uncomfortable attempt at flirtation, but when it happens for the third time within the first week, he’s not so sure. Axel has rolled his chair around their desks so he can sit next to Roxas, and he doesn’t even seem to be aware that his hand is on Roxas’ resting on his mouse, guiding the cursor through the program he’s currently explaining. Either way, Roxas finds that he is past his limit.

He snaps, “Do you _mind_?” and almost forcefully extracts his hand from underneath Axel’s warm fingers.

He’s prepared for a defensive answer, or a laugh brushing him off. What he doesn’t expect is Axel drawing his hand away immediately, looking at it as if it’s betrayed him, and then looking at Roxas with wide eyes and an apologetic expression.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and slides his hand under his thigh, as if to punish it for its misbehaviour. “Sometimes I don’t notice… sorry. Won’t happen again.”

And it doesn’t. Roxas is actually surprised by that, and he appreciates Axel’s regard for his personal boundaries.

* * *

Axel knows that he’s easily distracted at work.

Sure, he gets stuff done because he can be a fast worker when he wants to be, but honestly – talking to people, flirting with people, or keeping people from doing their job is far more entertaining than answering emails or reading through long lists of numbers. And if those are not available options, Axel also enjoys observing the people around him, learning new things about them simply by paying attention.

His latest distraction is his newest co-worker.

He honestly doesn’t know why he finds Roxas so interesting. Sure, he’s good looking, in that adorable _No-I-really-woke-up-with-hair-like-this-and-didn’t-spend-at-least-thirty-minutes-this-morning-getting-it-into-shape_ kind of way. Axel’s fingers sometimes itch to ruffle it, though he knows from experience that he doesn’t stand a chance against the amount of gel that keeps Roxas’ hair in place. More importantly, Roxas has made it very clear that he doesn’t appreciate being touched, and Axel is almost thankful for the reprimand. He knows he needs it more often.

Roxas’ clothes change after the first week. The carefully ironed shirts and pants are replaced by faded jeans and comfortable sweaters, quickly catching on to the lack of dress-code in the office. Axel could have sworn that the colours beige and teal green are the most superfluous on the colour spectrum, but on Roxas, they work. They make his skin look warm and soft and highlight his blue eyes, which Axel finds himself staring at more often than he cares to admit to himself.

* * *

Axel seems to live on enormous amounts of caffeine and office gossip alone. He knows everything about everyone: from business deals and background information to who is currently sleeping with whom. _Why_ people feel the need to confide in the redhead, Roxas has no idea, but clearly they do.

He gets caught in a heated argument between two of his colleagues one day when he’s stuck at the printer. He barely manages to escape before it turns into a full shouting match, and their loud voices follow him down the corridor. Xion and Axel both look up when he walks back into the office, feeling slightly exhausted.

“Got caught in the crossfire?” Axel asks and grimaces sympathetically.

“I really wish they’d keep it down,” Xion says, scowling, and gets up to close the door behind Roxas, who sits down at his desk.

“Any idea what that was even about?” he asks, not really expecting an answer. Axel shrugs and leans back in his chair to stare at the ceiling in a moment of contemplation, before he says, “Well, let’s see. Vex is pissed at Marlux, because he’s been at the company forever and has his way of doing things, and now Marlux, young, talented and, let’s be real, bit of a know-it-all, tells him he doesn’t like his approach because it’s not up to date, and well, I guess Vex feels threatened. Marlux can’t see why Vex isn’t opting for the clearly more efficient way to do things, so now I think we can sum the whole thing up with what it truly amounts to.” He spreads his arms widely and grins up at the ceiling, “It’s a dick-measuring contest.”

He looks down to find Roxas staring at him. “What? You asked,” he says.

Roxas shakes his head and looks over at Xion, who is quietly smiling into her mug of peppermint tea. “I did,” he agrees. “And how do you know all this?”

Axel shrugs and idly folds a post-it note before he tears it in half. “I listen,” he just says, and that, perhaps, is the fact that surprises Roxas most of all.

* * *

Roxas has a sweet tooth. He is constantly munching on some form of candy, and their mutual bin collects candy wrappers and ice cream sticks that Roxas gets from the machine in the cafeteria that, honestly, Axel has never seen anyone use before. He keeps granola bars and lemon drops in his desk drawer, and Axel is honestly fascinated by the constant sound of rock candy being crushed between teeth coming from behind Roxas’ monitor.

There’s something guarded about Roxas, Axel thinks, something about how Roxas doesn’t like to talk about certain aspects of his life. Sure, he shares some stories about his time at college, especially when he discovers that Xion goes to his old university. They compare anecdotes about profs and courses, and Axel thinks it’s kinda adorable to see Xion click with someone this quickly, considering that she hasn’t really warmed up to most of the people at the office. But whenever the conversation turns to his family, his hobbies or his former jobs, Roxas visibly tenses. His answers range from carefully evasive to a blunt “Honestly, I don’t think that’s any of your business”, and he becomes good at quickly changing the topic whenever it touches on something he’d rather not talk about.

The one he’s most guarded around, though, are not Axel and Xion, but Saïx. Sure, Saïx isn’t with them often, but whenever he walks into the office to distribute tasks or calls them into his office for a mini-team meeting, Roxas has this carefully neutral expression on his face that Axel doesn’t like. It doesn’t help that Saïx has lately aspired to becoming a dick just like their boss, and Axel hates the tone he sometimes employs when he talks to Xion or Roxas.

One afternoon Saïx walks in without comment and slams a stack of paper onto Roxas’ desk, making the blond man flinch.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to redo these tables,” Saïx says, his tone slightly more disapproving than usual. “The numbers don’t add up.”

Roxas looks surprised and then scowls, thumbing through the papers. “I went over them twice. Where do you think I…”

“It’s not my job to correct your mistakes, Mr Hikaru,” Saïx says, and his monotone voice has a sharp edge to it. “But it would save me a lot of time and energy if you could hand me less sloppy work next time.”

“Saïx,” Axel says, his voice calm but laced with silent reprimand. Saïx looks up to scowl at Axel, and Axel is prepared for the verbal attack coming his way. Instead, Saïx exhales through this nose and walks out of their office.

“He’s usually not that much of a dick,” Axel says once he’s certain Saïx is out of earshot. “I promise.”

“Yeah?” Roxas replies, still scowling down at the list in front of him. “Could have fooled me.”

“He was actually really nice, back in college,” Axel says, his gaze drifting towards the door, trailing behind Saïx. “I think it’s the whole manager thing. The pressure, or whatever. It’s getting to his head.”

He turns around to see Roxas looking at him, his expression surprised. “You know each other from college?” he asks.

Axel shrugs, “We had a couple of courses together. Hung out a lot in between classes, shared some presentations, you know how it is.” He sounds more nonchalant than he feels because honestly, he kinda misses the way Saïx and he were, at some point at least, friends. He can’t pinpoint when they stopped being friends, but sometimes, he’d like to reverse that.

Roxas doesn’t comment on this any further, he just scowls and attacks his keyboard with a fuming mixture of determination and fury. From this moment on Axel notices how Roxas’ work, which has as far as he can see has always been good, becomes close to impeccable, with hardly any mistakes or typos ever appearing in his lines. Even the punctuation is so flawless that Axel feels downright impressed.

He can see that Roxas is eager to prove himself. Axel notices the way he insists on doing everything by himself, the way he hesitates before he asks a question, always consulting the help options before he turns to Axel or Xion. Axel wonders who exactly Roxas wants to prove himself too. Himself? Saïx? The management?

It might be a career thing, he thinks. He can understand that. But somehow, Roxas doesn’t quite seem like the career-type of person – just the kind of person who doesn’t deal well with making mistakes.

* * *

Then there’s the birthday incident.

Sure, Roxas _has_ told Axel his age and hinted at the date of his birthday on his very first day at the new office. But he’s only been here for three weeks, and he doesn’t expect anyone to know, or care. He doesn’t _tell_ anyone – after all, twenty-eight is not a significant age, and it’s a regular Monday anyway.

So when the first thing he sees when he walks into his office is a cupcake sitting on his desk, he stops dead in his tracks.

It’s a nice cupcake, a big one, with the kind of elaborate frosting you usually only get in bakeries. There’s an unlit candle peeking out of the frosting, the cheap kind you get for children’s birthday cakes.

The candle’s red.

He looks around. Xion is nowhere in sight, but Axel’s jacket and bag have been dropped unceremoniously next to his desk.

There are hurried footsteps behind him and Roxas turns around to see Axel barrel through the door. His eyes widen almost comically when he sees Roxas, his shoulders drop and he sighs, “Aw, fuck. You’re already here.”

Roxas looks at him, then at the cupcake sitting on his desk, and raises an eyebrow in silent question.

Axel grins and holds up his hand to show Roxas the lighter he’s holding. “I quit smoking a year ago, so I had to ask around,” he says. “Apparently everyone’s aboard the health train right now. Larxene gave me hers, but then Xaldin caught me and gave me a lecture about non-smoking policies and how easily you can trigger the sprinklers, so…” he looks at the unlit candle on the cupcake, his expression apologetic, “I guess it’s the thought that counts?”

Roxas looks at the cupcake and feels weirdly warm inside. He hasn’t expected Axel to remember, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Axel knows _everything_ about _everyone_ , of course he remembers Roxas’ birthday. But the fact that he went and actually _bought_ something for Roxas, and went to all this trouble to light the candle before Roxas arrived…

He looks at the other man and smiles, feeling weirdly comfortable for the first time since he started his job.

“Thank you, Axel.”

Axel looks taken aback for a second and then quickly looks away, his hand carding through the red strands of hair in an absent-minded manner. Roxas isn’t sure, but he thinks there’s a slight blush to his pale cheeks.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he says, and walks over to his desk. “I hope you like chocolate chip.” He tilts his head to the side to look past his monitor at Roxas, and adds, “Happy birthday?”

“Thanks,” Roxas replies and carefully removes the candle from the frosting before he peels off the wrapping and sinks his teeth into the soft dough. It’s still warm. “Who doesn’t like chocolate chip?” he asks around a mouthful of frosting.

It’s the dazzling smile he receives from Axel, as well as the whispered argument he overhears between Xion and Axel later (“Why didn’t you tell me, Axel?” “Hey, I just remembered this morning, and I had to check with Saïx who was all hung up about “protecting personal information” so I had to bribe Demyx into telling me if it really was his birthday, and then run to the bakery and find a candle in the kitchen cupboard of doom, which by the way I’m really sure is possessed by a seriously pissed-off poltergeist…” “I just hope he’s not disappointed that we forgot. Should I bring cake tomorrow to make it up to him?” “It was a perfectly _nice_ cupcake, Xion, thanks for your confidence in me. But yes to cake. _Always_ yes to cake.”) that make him think about his new job. And how he’s actually glad he took it. 

* * *

Given the fact that Roxas is almost overly ambitious when it comes to fulfilling the tasks Xion and Axel delegate to him, it’s no wonder that it catches Axel off guard when Roxas objects to doing something for the very first time.

Well, he doesn’t really _object_ , not per se or in so many words. But when Axel explains to him that he should look into the marketing strategies of their biggest competitors, he is surprised to see Roxas frowning at his keyboard.

“Are you sure this is necessary?” he asks, carefully avoiding Axel’s gaze.

Axel stares at him in confusion, taken aback by Roxas’ reaction. It’s standard practice, he thinks, to look at ads and press conferences, and read through the media coverage of their latest TV spots. Sure, it’s perhaps not the most thrilling thing to do, but Axel has never minded comparing the marketing strategies of their biggest competitors, _RadGar United_ and _Departure Corp_., and, most importantly, _Highwind Enterprises_. But Roxas is staring at the list with names of companies like it’s going to bite him.

“Uhm, yes?” Axel replies, uncertain as to how to approach what is clearly a problem. “It’s gonna come up in one of the next meetings. Xemnas will want a report on their marketing campaigns from this year and the figures from their last-year sales so that he can plan accordingly. Or, more likely, ask _us_ to come up with something.” He looks at Roxas, at the way the other man is still avoiding his gaze. As softly as he can, he asks, “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Roxas says, too quickly. “No problem. I just…” He hesitates, and Axel can almost see the excuse forming in his head. “I don’t like this competition business.”

Axel shakes his head. If it is an excuse, it’s not a very good one. “Hate to break it to you, Rox, but that’s like, the first rule of capitalism.”

“I _know_ ,” Roxas says. He sounds aggravated. “But… why can’t a service or a product speak for itself? Why do we even have to “beat” other companies’ marketing? Why can’t we just come up with the best one on our own?”

Axel sighs, “Hypothetically? I’d agree with you. But we just don’t live in a bubble, Rox. The competition is there, whether we like it or not.” He adds, “Look, Xemnas is really interested in what the other companies do, and it’s going to take up a huge chunk of the next meetings. If you really don’t want to do it, Xion and I _can_ prepare everything. But…” he leans forward, far across his desk, close enough to peer past Roxas’ monitor, close enough to startle him enough to stop avoiding Axel’s gaze. It works. “…and I’m just trying to be nice here: it’s not going to look good if you sit there at your first real team meeting and don’t have anything to say.”

Roxas’ eyes, blue and bright, look at him for a long moment. Then he nods, slowly. “You’re right,” he says, “I’m being stupid about this.” He sighs and frowns at his monitor for a moment before he turns back to Axel. “I’ll get to it. Sorry.”

Axel nods. He wants to ask what the hell this is about, _really_ about. But he doesn’t know how to ask without crossing one of the many boundaries that exist between Roxas and himself, so he just leans back.

One day, he thinks, if he just pays enough attention, he might be able to piece together the puzzle pieces that are Roxas Hikaru.

* * *

Roxas is certain he has never met anyone with as much charisma as Axel. It’s a force of nature, the way he smiles and talks, easily and pleasantly, a joke never far from the conversation. Roxas feels himself drawn to it and he takes comfort in the fact that he’s not the only one.

Axel is extremely popular around the office and he flirts equally with men and women. Roxas watches him joke with Larxene in the doorway for five minutes, exchanging innuendo after innuendo, while Roxas feels the frown on his forehead deepen with every second. The encounter ends with Larxene pinching Axel’s _butt_ , and for crying out loud – there must be a sexual harassment policy against that somewhere, but Axel just laughs and swats her hand away good-naturedly. When she finally leaves, Axel sits down at his desk with a grin on his face, which only falters once he notices Roxas’ stare from behind the other desk.

“What?” he asks, “What did I do this time?”

“Do you flirt with everyone you meet?” Roxas asks before he can stop himself.

“Of course not, Roxas,” Axel says, and, oh _great_ , the patronising tone is back. “Only with the people I like, _and_ slash _or_ the ones that are unfairly attractive.”

“Don’t you have a jealous girlfriend at home?” Roxas asks, adding after just a second, “Or boyfriend?”

Axel’s grin widens immediately and Roxas realises that this question was a mistake. “Aww, Roxas, if this is your roundabout way of asking if I’m single, you could’ve just…” Roxas sighs, pulls his headphones over his ears, thus effectively drowning out Axel’s voice, and stares pointedly at whatever table he’s _not_ been filling out over the last ten minutes.

Suddenly, there’s a work-email notification popping up.

It’s from Axel.

Of course it is.

_Re: Previous Inquiry_

_I am, by the way. No harm in asking._

Roxas peers over the edge of his monitor and is greeted by a very amused stare from two too-green eyes.

Axel taps his finger against his ear, and Roxas lifts his headphones cautiously, just a fraction.

“And in case you wanted to know which way I swing,” Axel whispers and then spreads his arms, his grin cocky and self-assured. “There’s enough Axel for everyone.”

Roxas rolls his eyes pointedly and hopes he ducks back behind his monitor fast enough to hide his involuntary grin.

* * *

Roxas is surprisingly good at his job.

It’s not that Axel doubted his skills, or his experience. Roxas seems to have plenty of both, plus a lot of ambition, and Axel and Xion occasionally share an impressed look when he hands them a document to proof-read, only to prove that there’s not a single mistake in there. He’s less keen when it comes to talking with clients: he’s always polite, but Axel can see the way he rolls his eyes or grabs his pencil tighter, and the way he’s beginning to refer the most difficult ones among them to Xion. But hey, Axel’s been doing that for the past months himself, so he can hardly blame Roxas for copying his idea. And Xion, with her calm and professional attitude, is arguably the best suited one out of the three of them to deal with them – plus, she’s the only one who doesn’t mind talking to people on the phone.

But Axel knows that neither skill nor experience nor willingness to deal with rude people ultimately determines a person’s success at _K.H. Industries_. He’s been around long enough to know that it takes a special mix of tenacity, backbone, effort and ability to keep one’s mouth shut to succeed in the long run.

He’s questioning particularly whether Roxas possesses the last of those abilities.

March is a particularly stressful month for them, and Xion and Axel can’t spare Roxas from taking over the big tasks any longer, even though he’s not yet as experienced and has only recently worked out how their online calendar works.

One of these mornings, Saïx walks into their office without a greeting – as always –, stands next to Roxas’ desk and drops a heavy folder on his keyboard. “Mr. Hikaru, I’d like you to transfer the relevant data in these documents into the _keyblade_ -program,” he says. “We’ll need it for an upcoming presentation.”

“Uhm…” Roxas says, pulling the folder towards him and browsing through the pages. “Yes, I think…”

“Please make sure to attach the correct hyperlinks so we can use the interactive elements,” Saïx says. “You _do_ know how to work with the interactive elements, correct?” It sounds like a test.

“Sure,” Roxas says, and his voice sounds too bright to Axel’s ears. His smile is too wide, too. “No problem. I’ll have it ready by tomorrow.”

Saïx nods and turns away. Roxas watches until he retreats around the corner until he mutters a curse under his breath and almost violently yanks his keyboard towards him.

Axel watches as he types furiously for a moment, and then glances at the folder next to him like it personally attacked him, and Axel pieces two and two together. He leans forward enough to see Roxas opening the program in question and going straight for the “help”-icon. 

“You have no idea how to work with the interactive elements, do you?” Axel asks, grinning.

“Not a _fucking_ clue,” Roxas says, angrily yanks out a drawer, pulls his headphones out and plugs them in. Axel hesitates, because Roxas has brushed off his help in the past, but finally he does ask, “Want me to show you?”

“Nah,” Roxas says, already typing something and pulling the headphones over his ear. “Don’t bother. I’ll figure it out. There should be enough youtube tutorials for this.”

Axel sits back, feeling both impressed by Roxas’ attitude and dubious of his success.

The latter turns out to be a mistake.

Saïx comes by the next morning to personally thank Roxas for his thorough and quick work, and Axel makes a mental note not to underestimate him again.

* * *

Roxas is pretty sure that Axel must be sleeping with _someone_ from the office.

He knows that betting with himself is pretty pointless, but he’s still placing his money on either Larxene or Marluxia. It’s hard to ignore Larxene’s constant flirtation with Axel, and Roxas finds it suspicious that Marluxia is the only one who seems completely immune to Axel’s charm, and he has made up a plausible story in his mind about how Marluxia constantly ignoring Axel is really a cover-up for their passionate but secret relationship.

What Roxas doesn’t know is why he’s so interested in Axel’s sex life in the first place. He decides that it’s probably because it’s kinda fun to figure out which one of his theories is right. That doesn’t quite explain why he doesn’t particularly _like_ the thought of Axel with either Larxene or Marluxia, but he doesn’t like to dwell on that anyway.

His theories crash one late afternoon in March, when he hears Axel and Larxene laugh in the corridor before Axel walks in, a cup of steaming coffee in his left hand and a stack of paper in his right hand.

“Seriously Axel,” Xion says suddenly. She’s perched on the edge of her desk, still sorting through the copies she made half an hour ago that are now in messy piles which occupy her desk, her chair, the windowsill and a large section of the floor. “Don’t you think it’s mean, leading Larxene on like that?”

Axel promptly chokes on his coffee, which can’t be a pleasant experience. Roxas watches him discreetly over the edge of his monitor, a strange sense of anticipation in his stomach.

“Fuck, Xion,” Axel finally says, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

Xion shrugs. The spring sun paints a golden halo in her dark hair. “It’s just the way she talks with you. She’s clearly interested, and I think you shouldn’t get her hopes up if you don’t reciprocate her feelings. That’s all.”

Axel raises his hands in a defensive gestures, “Hey, I’ve made it very clear from day one that I’m not interested in dating co-workers, okay? She knows that. It’s just…” his left hand waves through the air, detailing an abstract thought, “… that’s just how we talk, okay? I don’t mean anything by it, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t either.”

Xion looks at him for a long second, her gaze sceptical, before she shrugs and turns back to her copies, “Okay. If you say so.”

“I do,” Axel says and turns around. Roxas doesn’t duck back behind his monitor fast enough and Axel’s gaze meets his. “Seriously, it’s not, like, weird? Is it?” Axel asks, his gaze unsure. He’s looking at Roxas like his answer seriously matters, so Roxas decides to be honest.

“Well, I sort of thought you two might be an item too.”

Axel’s eyes widen. Then he sighs deeply and cradles his mug in his hands. “Okay, then it has to stop. I don’t want people thinking that.”

Roxas’ curiosity gets the better of him and he hears himself ask, “So, what’s with you and not dating co-workers?”

“Oh that,” Axel says and takes a long sip of his coffee, before he answers, “It’s just never a good idea, you know? I mean if everything goes great, sure. But in the statistically not unlikely scenario that things go sour, you can practically start looking for another job immediately.” He grins, “What do they say? You don’t shit where you eat?”

There’s a loud sigh from the direction of Xion’s desk while Roxas looks at the other man with exhausted exasperation: “ _Who_ , Axel? _Who_ actually says this?”

Axel’s grin only widens. “My point is, why have an office fling that can only end in disaster when there’s plenty of hot commodities you can pick up at bars or restaurants or…” “Yes, we get the idea,” Xion interrupts while Roxas mentally says goodbye to his theories. He’s still mulling over why he feels displeased with the information that Axel has a rule against dating co-workers when suddenly, there’s a pair of green eyes very close to his, staring at him over his monitor easily, because Axel is, regrettably, much taller than Roxas.

“Why are _you_ so interested in my dating life, anyway?” he asks.

“I’m not,” Roxas replies and he hates that he sounds defensive rather than dismissive. “I was just… I mean…”

“… asking for a friend?” Axel offers, his tone mocking and the grin on his face wider than ever before.

“I don’t have any friends here,” Roxas replies before he can think about it. That makes Axel lean back, and the look of hurt on his face is so unexpected that Roxas feels himself lean forward involuntarily, as if to reach out for him.

“No, I mean…” he says, not sure what he’s going to add after that, but Axel isn’t looking at him, he’s looking down at his coffee and mumbles, “No, yeah, I get it. I just thought…” Roxas looks to his left, suddenly aware that Xion has stopped sorting through her stacks of paper, and is instead looking at him with the measured and intense gaze she normally reserves for Axel.

“What Axel means,” she says, when the red-head remains silent. “Is that we hope that that might change in the future.” Her smile is kind and unassuming, an open invitation without pushing Roxas to take it.

“I mean,” Roxas says, and this is awkward and he hates it, hates that he doesn’t know how to respond to this, that he doesn’t know how to voice any of the thoughts running through his mind without sounding like a complete idiot. “I think… sure?” It sounds weak, and fake, exactly like he feels right now, because all he can think about are Xion’s tireless explanations and the calls she takes for him and the cake she brought the day after his birthday, and the cupcake and Axel’s expression when he shoved his hand under his thigh when Roxas asked him not to touch him and the warm grin that greets him behind his monitor every morning and two green eyes looking at him like he matters.

Xion is apparently satisfied with his answer, even when Roxas isn’t. She nods and bends down to collect two piles of paper, already focused on her task again.

Axel still isn’t looking at him, but is instead typing away on his keyboard at an unusually high speed, his gaze fixed on his monitor, his expression blank.

Roxas feels awful.

* * *

After exactly eight weeks, Saïx summons Axel to his office.

Axel isn’t surprised by this. He has been expecting it for some time now, and there’s an almost familiar feeling of apprehension settling in his stomach when he carefully closes the door behind him.

Saïx is sitting behind his desk, his chin resting on his crossed fingers, and Axel hates the way he’s imitating the big boss’ mannerisms, maybe without really being aware of it.

Saïx points at the chair in front of Axel, and his tone is half commanding, half pleasant when he says, “Sit.”

Axel crosses his arms in front of his chest and remains standing. “What do you want?” he asks without preamble.

There’s no visible reaction to his defiance. Saïx merely reaches under his desk to draw out a brown folder. Axel doesn’t have to look at the name on the cover – he knows who this is about.

“So, your new co-worker,” Saïx says. He carefully opens the folder, and Axel can see Roxas’ blue eyes staring out from the photo taken for his ID card. “Roxas Hikaru. What’s your impression of him?”

Axel sighs. He doesn’t know when these kinds of meetings became regular. At some point during the past year, Saïx figured out the best way to use Axel’s admittedly impressive knowledge about his co-workers was to quiz him about what he calls their “loyalty to the company”. Axel has tried not to rat out people, he truly has. But Harry had loudly complained about everything to everyone, and Claudia also hadn’t exactly been discreet about applying for other jobs, so Axel had felt silly lying about them to Saïx when everyone and their grandma knew they were the farthest thing away from “company loyal”.

Does he still feel bad because both of them got the boot not half an hour after he left Saïx’ office?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Saïx has asked him twice about Xion in the eight months she’s been here, and both times, Axel has been completely honest. He told him that she is an incredibly dedicated worker, discreet, competent and the definition of loyal. He had given Saïx no reason to treat her with anything but respect and appreciation.

He’s determined to do the same with Roxas.

“He’s a big help,” he says, uncrossing his arms. “He’s still getting used to things, but he’s a quick learner. And he’s smart. I hope he sticks around.”

Saïx nods. His expression betrays nothing.

“Has he asked questions?” he inquires.

Axel frowns, unsure how to respond to that, “Uhm… yes? Like, he had to? You mean about the programmes or…”

Saïx waves him off. “No, not that particularly,” he says. “Has he asked questions about the company specifically?”

Axel stares at him in silent bewilderment. “Uhm…”

“Has he asked about our official policies?” Saïx asks. He leans forward, his gaze locked on Axel’s. “About me or Xemnas? About our corporation? Our partners? Any upcoming projects that are… not yet ready to be released to the public?”

Axel is staring back at him, an unpleasant shiver running down his spine. He has some idea about what things Saïx is referring to. He doesn’t know anything specific, but he’s heard rumours, and overheard a couple of conversations that left him with the distinct impression that not everything the company’s dealing in is… well, a hundred percent legal. Or, well, not illegal, not strictly, more like… unethical? He never asked, partly because he figures it’s none of his business, partly because he’s afraid of what the answer might be. And given the way Saïx is still staring at him, his gaze merciless, he figures that might have been a smart move on his part.

“No,” he says and for a moment, he’s glad that he doesn’t have to lie. “No, nothing like that, never.” He remembers Roxas’ reluctance to research other companies, and he almost laughs. _Quite the opposite, actually._

Saïx leans back in his chair. Axel still can’t read his expression, but he doesn’t think Saïx is particularly satisfied with his answer.

“Good,” Saïx says. It doesn’t sound happy. “I suppose that’s good.” He’s looking at Axel again in that commanding way that Axel hates, “If anything changes about that, you will let me know immediately. Understood?”

Axel returns his stare in a silent challenge. “Tell me, Saïx,” he drawls, “Does Xemnas know about our little talks? Is he aware that you’re asking me to basically spy on my co-workers? Which I’m not really inclined to do?”

They’re staring at each other for a long moment and Axel refuses to be the first to look away. Finally, Saïx says, “Mr. Hikaru’s employment was… a risk. A risk _I_ was unwilling to take. Xemnas, however, was intrigued.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “I’m just trying to make sure his experiment doesn’t blow up in our faces.”

Axel frowns, “A risk? Roxas?” Roxas, who’s trying so hard to prove himself? Roxas, who hides most of his smiles behind his monitor where he thinks Axel can’t see them?

_I don’t have any friends here._

“What are you afraid he’ll do? Steal our upcoming projects and sell them to our competitors, who have better products anyway?” It’s no secret that they’re not the number one on the current market – hell, they barely even make the top five – but reminding Saïx of that seems to be a mistake.

He narrows his eyes at Axel and says, “That is not your concern. All I need you to do is to tell me if you notice anything unusual or alarming. Are we clear?”

Here’s the thing most people don’t know about Axel: he always thinks very carefully about when to pick his fights. Sure, he could tell Saïx that he thinks this is ridiculous, that this isn’t _James Bond_ or _Spy Kids_ or whatever film franchise has gotten to his head. He could tell him that they’re paying all of their employees far to less if they expect them to be “company loyal”. But Axel knows that lying is, in many cases, the easiest way to success.

So he shrugs and says, “Crystal clear, boss.” and turns to the door, ready to leave this office and the content of their discussion behind him.

But whenever he’s looking at Roxas over the next days, the conversation with Saïx comes back to him.

And he decides that it’s not true that Roxas has no friends here.

Roxas has him.


	2. Walking the Line

Roxas feels extremely grateful that neither Xion nor Axel appears to be the type of person to hold grudges. After the awkward turn their conversation took a week ago, he feared that it might affect the convivial atmosphere in their office. But Xion acts like the conversation never happened at all; and while Axel all but ignored him for the rest of the day, he was back to bright smiles the next morning, when Roxas took care to take a second mug of coffee for Axel with him back to the office in lieu of apology.

The thing is: Roxas knows he isn’t particularly great at making friends. He has hung out with the same people from high school all the way through college, and they’re still his closest friends. Sure, he has other acquaintances, and he has always gotten along with people at work, whether at the jobs he worked part-time during college or the jobs he had afterwards. But they were always strictly _colleagues_ , people you gave your private number to only if you had to and only to discuss work-related issues, not private stuff. People you sometimes informed about your birthday, but never about your relationship status. People you saw eight hours a day anyway, not people you hung out with during weekends.

In a way, it’s similar to Axel’s “no-dating-co-workers”-rule. Keeping people at a distance has always felt right to Roxas. It has always felt _safe_ , and smart.

But he promised himself that this job would be different: a fresh start, hopefully, in more ways than one. And now he works with two people he really likes, and that he wouldn’t _mind_ hanging out with after work. But he doesn’t know how to go about that, he doesn’t even know how to apologise for sounding so harsh last week without everything becoming awkward again.

“…xas? Earth to Roxas?” Roxas blinks, and remembers that he’s standing in front of the reception desk, where a grumpy-looking Demyx is staring up at him. “Did you want something?” he asks, sounding both bored and annoyed, as if Roxas is interrupting something important on this very regular Wednesday afternoon. Roxas almost snorts – from where he’s standing, he has a clear view of Demyx’ monitor, which openly displays the facebook fan site of Demyx’ rock band, where the other man is apparently in the process of replying to one of the comments.

“Xion asked me to give you this,” he says, and hands over a short list, “She says we’re out of supplies.”

“She could have emailed me,” Demyx mutters, and lazily finishes typing his sentence before he takes the list from Roxas.

“She did,” Roxas replies dryly while Demyx scans the items listed on the piece of paper. “ _Twice_.”

“Did she check the supply room?” Demyx asks. He doesn’t even glance up from Xion’s list, so he doesn’t see the way Roxas rolls his eyes.

“Of course she did, and she checked the other offices, and she says we need envelopes in two different sizes, folders and two new toner cartridges,” Roxas says. When Demyx doesn’t react, but instead grins at a facebook comment again, he adds, maybe a bit irritated, “Like, _right now_.”

This finally gets the other man’s attention – to a degree, at least. Demyx sighs deeply, “I _guess_ I can order it. I mean, I’m really swamped with work, but if it’s that urgent…”

Roxas bites on the inside of his left cheek to keep himself from commenting. He remembers Axel grinning at him on his third day, after Roxas’ first encounter with Demyx, and remembers how the other man leaned over his desk to whisper, not really discreetly, “You know, I like Demyx, but he’s so lazy I’m convinced they only hired him because they wanted a hot piece of ass at the reception desk.”

Roxas grins quietly to himself while Demyx opens another tab to go hunt for office supplies.

But when he looks at the big calendar on the wall behind Demyx’ desk, every margin full of names and dates and deadlines, he spots a familiar name in next week’s column. And suddenly, he has an idea.

* * *

Axel likes to take off Mondays and Fridays. Not every week, but often, always careful not to miss the team meetings every second Friday.

Roxas is curious to know why, and thankfully, he doesn’t even have to ask, only to listen attentively when Xion asks on Friday afternoon, “Are you going to Traverse again, Axel?”

“Yeah,” Axel replies. He’s standing between Xion’s and Roxas’ desk, pinning the newest safety instructions to the board on the wall. “I hope they’re done with the construction works on the way. Last time I almost got stranded at Hollow Bastion after midnight and trust me, that is _not_ a place where you’d want to spend the night.”

He crumples up a piece of paper and throws it over Roxas’ head. It misses the brim of the bin only by an inch, but Axel has already resumed his task without noticing.

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Xion says. She grabs her empty mug and as she walks by, Axel reaches out and tousles her hair affectionately. Xion laughs and throws it back into shape with a practised shake of her head.

Over the past weeks, Roxas has learned to evaluate Axel’s habit of touching people differently. He still thinks it’s inappropriate sometimes, but he notices that every time Axel reaches out to draw Xion into a one-armed hug or to ruffle her hair, he looks at her as if asking for permission, and only relaxes once she laughs or leans into the touch.

In a weird way, it makes Roxas feel almost excluded.

“By the way,” Axel says, taking a step back to view the result of his work, “Where the hell did you get that mug from?”

Roxas blinks and looks at the mug he’s taken from the kitchen today. It’s red, with stylized flames painted on the white porcelain and the words “Hell is other people” coiling around the mug.

“That one?” he asks and tries to remember getting coffee in the morning. “Yeah, there were no mugs left, so I got one from the kitchen. Why?”

Axel nods gravely and plops down gracelessly in his chair. “I wondered where it went.”

“Is it yours?” Roxas asks, looking at the red and orange swirls and then at the mess of red hair falling over Axel’s shoulder.

_Fitting_.

“Yeah, once upon a time,” Axel says and waves his right hand dismissively. “But now the cupboard of doom has claimed it, and I’m not taking my chances with it.”

Roxas stares at him. “The what did what now?”

“The kitchen cupboard of doom,” Axel says, leaning forward and looking at Roxas with wide eyes. “It’s possessed, or some other shit. I’m not an expert, but it attacked me _twice_ , so I’m staying the hell away from it.”

“It ‘attacked’ you?” Roxas echoes, his voice and expression sceptical.

Axel nods vehemently, “Once it threw a box of tea at me, and another time the top board crashed down the moment I opened the door. Half of the cutlery shattered, I stopped the other half with my face and I’m pretty sure Zexion had a heart attack from the noise. Oh, and when I got the candle for your birthday cupcake the door opened _all by itself_ again after I closed it.” He leans back in his chair, his gaze contemplative, “I think it’s probably a very pissed-off ghost. I mean, I guess you can’t blame the poor fucker – if I died at work I’d probably want to make other people’s life miserable too.”

For a moment, Roxas doesn’t know whether to laugh at the grave expression on Axel’s face or the way his voice has lowered into a whisper. “Oh god, you’re serious, aren’t you?” he asks, and now he can’t stop the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Axel crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. “Laugh all you want,” he says, “You’re just like Xion. But one day it’s gonna come for you two as well, and then I’ll wear my ‘Axel told you so’-shirt for the rest of the week.”

“I never would have thought you of all people would be afraid of the supernatural,” Roxas quips. “As a carrot head, I mean. I always thought that hair colour classically signified an affinity for the supernatural, among other things.”

“Hey,” Axel protests, while his fingers rake through his hair almost defensively, “Don’t make me go Green Gables on your ass, short stuff, because I swear I’ll do it.”

“I am not _short_ ,” Roxas snarls, his eyes narrowing to slits.

“Oh please,” Axel scoffs, “You have like, half an inch on Xion, tops, and that’s mostly hair.”

For a second, Roxas is glaring at Axel and Axel is glaring at Roxas. And then, suddenly, Axel grins, wide and amused, and there’s something like respect glittering in his eyes, and Roxas can feel himself grinning back and he feels something come loose inside his chest. Of course, that is precisely the moment that Xion walks in, and her expression turns into a big question mark when she sees the two of them grinning at each other like idiots.

“What’s going on?” she asks. Axel waves dismissively. “Nothing,” he says, “Just a discussion between friends.” He immediately looks startled by what he just said and his gaze quickly darts towards Roxas, his expression hesitant and apprehensive.

Roxas only smiles and says, “Yeah” before he ducks behind his monitor. The downside to this is that he can see neither Axel’s nor Xion’s reaction. On the plus size is that they themselves are unable to see that he’s grinning like an idiot.

Plus, he now has to discreetly google what the hell ‘Green Gables’ is.

* * *

There’s a plant sitting on Axel’s desk.

It does not introduce itself. It just sits there, with green and purple leaves that look a bit like they’re some form of alien vegetation. It’s utterly hideous, quite frankly, and its orange pot has been decorated with a yellow ribbon. The colours clash horribly.

Axel stands in the doorway and wonders if this a belated April fool’s joke.

“Happy birthday,” Roxas chirps and peers up from behind his monitor. He’s nibbling on a granola bar and is looking everywhere but at Axel and the plant.

Axel is not quite certain he understands the situation yet.

“What,” he asks and points almost accusingly at the plant, which is so big it takes up almost a third of his desk, “is this?”

“This is Rex,” Roxas says. “Short for Rex Begonia. He’s your new workplace companion. I got him for you. You know. As a birthday present.”

“Wait,” Axel says, “How do you know it’s my birthday?”

“It’s in the office calendar,” Roxas replies, and throws the wrapping paper of his granola bar into the bin with a practised motion. “The one behind Demyx’ desk?”

“Oh,” Axel says, remembering the calendar that no one ever checks because, well, the internet. “I guess it is.” He looks at the plant again, “And this abomination is my present?”

“He’s not an abomination,” Roxas hisses and looks offended. Offended on behalf of a _plant_. “He’s great for the workspace, I googled it. He increases the humidity in rooms so your skin won’t dry out in winter months, he filters the air of toxins, and he makes you happy by adding some colour to your desk.”

Axel has to process that his cute, feisty co-worker, _I-don’t-have-any-friends_ -Roxas, has not only gotten him a birthday present – an enormous one, and are plants cheap? Are they expensive? Axel has no idea – but that he actually thought about getting Axel something useful for the office, something that apparently is good for his health.

He is still thinking about what to say when suddenly, two lean arms wrap around his torso in a soft hug. “Good morning, Axel, and happy birthday!” Xion says, smiling up at him. She looks to Roxas, and then practically beams at the abomination taking up space on Axel’s desk. “Do you like your present?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re in on this,” Axel says, but he feels himself grinning when realisation settles in.

She releases him and returns his smile, “Oh no. The plant was Roxas’ idea. _This_ is my present.” She opens the bag she’s holding in her hand and hands him a watering can. It’s orange, like the flower pot.

Axel laughs, deeply and happily, and Roxas, who has been eyeing him tensely, visibly relaxes and smiles tentatively.

“You guys are great,” Axel says and pulls Xion against his side, murmuring a soft “Thank you” against her forehead. Xion looks up at him with a smile lighting up her whole face in a way that is absolutely infectious, and Axel makes sure to squeeze her once more before he releases her. Which leaves him standing in front of Roxas, who has been watching them with a strange expression on his face. Once his gaze meets Axel’s, however, it falters and turns slightly unsure when he averts his gaze, not meeting Axel’s eyes.

“So… happy birthday?” he offers again.

Axel hates handshakes. He always has, and probably always will. They’re too formal, too stiff, and they never convey anything in the right way, not the way a fist-bump or a middle-finger can.

So, he does the only thing that actually feels right: he shrugs and holds out his arms questioningly, giving Roxas every opportunity to decline the offer. He knows Roxas well enough by now to know that he won’t pressure him into anything the other man wouldn’t want to do.

Roxas gaze snaps back up to meet Axel’s, and he holds it for a long moment. Axel has no idea what the other man is seeing there, but it seems to be the right thing: Roxas squares his shoulders as if to prepare himself for something before he walks into Axel’s arms, bringing his hands up behind his back and squeezing his waist lightly.

He is the perfect height, Axel notices. His nose brushes against Axel’s collarbone beneath his shirt, and he’s warm and solid against his chest, and when Axel brings his arms around him to really hug him, he thinks it’s weird how well their bodies fit together.

The hug can’t last for longer than a few seconds, because Axel is already letting go and Roxas is already stepping away.

But it feels longer.

It feels significant.

“So,” Axel says, and his gaze falls back onto the hideous plant sitting on his desk. He grins, suddenly noticing something, and drawls, “Soooo… Rex and Rox, huh?”

Roxas looks at the plant with a vaguely horrified expression on his face that tells Axel that he did not think this through. Axel laughs brightly.

It’s a good birthday.

And if Axel keeps the yellow ribbon in the corner of his bottom drawer, well. Nobody will ever find out.

* * *

The conference room is all white. White walls, white floor, even the large, oval table and the leather chairs are white, with barely a hint of chrome anywhere. The oval table makes Roxas think back to the stories he loved to read as a child, about King Arthur and his knights, where a round table served as a measure of equality, ensuring no one sat higher than anybody else. Looking around the room and towards the man sitting next to Saïx, his chin resting on his fingers, his eyes attentive and his expression betraying none of his thoughts, Roxas feels that the table might have a very different function here. Maybe it ensures that Xemnas can watch all of them easily, like a weird sort of personal panopticon.

Roxas has only met his boss once, at the end of his job interview. He had failed to answer a few of Saïx’ questions to the other man’s satisfaction and had already made his peace with sending out the next wave of job applications, when suddenly, Saïx tensed ever so slightly and glanced towards the door. Roxas turned around and saw a man standing in the doorframe, eyeing him attentively. While Roxas was wondering how long the other man had been standing there, he pushed away from the doorframe and approached Roxas with slow, calculated steps. “Mr Hikaru, right?” he said. His voice was deep, and Roxas found himself blinking at his silver hair and his unnerving stare when Saïx behind him said, “Mr. Hikaru, may I introduce you to the owner of our company?” Xemnas had held out a hand, and Roxas shook it carefully, suddenly realising just what he had gotten himself in. “Thank you for your application, Mr. Hikaru,” Xemnas has said. “You’ll be hearing from us shortly.” Feeling that he had been dismissed, Roxas had quietly slipped out of the room, in a strange way relieved that he probably wouldn’t get this job anyway.

But he had.

Roxas has no idea why it’s the company’s policy to only allow new employees at their team meetings after fourteen weeks of probation. It seems like an odd number, but it means that he’s here now, staring at white walls and furniture illuminated by the bright April sunshine.

To say that attending the first team meeting makes Roxas nervous would be an exaggeration. He isn’t nervous. Not per se. He doesn’t have anything to be nervous about, after all. In the weeks he’s been with the company he has hardly heard any complains about his work.

It’s the content of the presentation he’s prepared with Axel and Xion that has kept him awake those last nights. He knows he’s not doing anything _wrong_ – it’s his _job_ , and he has strictly kept to the public information everyone can access.

Still, now that he’s standing in front of his colleagues in the unnervingly white room, listening to their presentation and pointing out the aspects he’s done research on, he feels like a traitor.

“You can see that the decisive trend in marketing we observed over the last months has really caught on,” Xion says. Her voice is clear, measured, and Roxas can only deduce that she’s slightly nervous from the way her fingers twist together when she isn’t pointing at their charts. “Sustainability, low carbon emissions, fair trade partnerships and green policies are what every company is currently emphasising. Along with “health” and “individuality”, those are the buzzwords of almost every campaign out there.”

“Yeah,” Axel says. His hair looks more dishevelled than ever, but other than that he doesn’t appear at all to be nervous speaking in front of so many people. “Especially _Highwind_ is extremely vocal about these things. They’ve cut ties with eight business partners since the oldest son took over a few years ago, all because they did not meet their ethical standards. All their cafeterias partner with local zero waste shops and every one of their products is tied to some charity cause.” Roxas clicks the button, and the next slide appears, listing said good causes. “ _Greenpeace, WWF, Doctors Without Borders_ are the well-known ones, but they also give to local charities, help build up small businesses, those things.” He looks at Roxas, like he already has a few times, careful to include him in their presentation.

“We estimate that roughly 6% of their revenue this year goes to these projects,” Roxas adds.

_8,2%, and only because they haven’t reached their 10% goal yet_ , a voice in his brain corrects. Roxas shakes his head lightly and concentrates on Xion’s next words.

“Recent studies show that all of these trends are extremely popular with the customers. People _want_ to feel like they contribute something. Our suggestion,” and she looks at Axel first, then at Roxas, as if to emphasise their team recommendation. “would be to take our marketing in the same direction.”

There’s slow clapping around the table. Demyx looks like he’s waking up again, Vexen is reviewing the notes he has been scribbling furiously during the entire time they were talking and Luxord reaches across the table to steal Lexaeus’ water bottle. No one is saying anything, though; instead, they glance towards the end of the table, mirroring Saïx who is looking pointedly at their boss.

“Well,” Xenmas drawls and slowly leans back in his chair (his chair is decidedly larger than the others, Roxas notices now, so yeah, _fuck_ King Arthur, apparently), “that was certainly… insightful.” He pauses, leaving everyone to wonder if “insightful” means good or bad.

Then, without warning or preamble, he looks straight at Roxas and asks, “Do you have any additional thoughts you’d like to share with us, Mr Hikaru?”

All heads turn to look at Roxas, most of them surprised. Some of them probably don’t even know his name yet. When he remains silent, staring at their boss in utter confusion, Xemnas continues, “I think especially your research on _Highwind Enterprises_ is _very_ informative. Perhaps you have some… other insights or recommendations you’d like to share?”

But all Roxas does is stare at the man at the other end of the table, with his slightly amused smirk, ever so confident, calm and collected.

_He knows_.

Of course he knows.

Roxas should have seen this coming. He shouldn’t have been stupid enough to think that he got this job because of his own merits, because of his qualifications, some of which he admittedly straight up lied about. He shouldn’t have been stupid enough to think that no one noticed the familiar surname and did some digging.

And yet – it’s like a punch to the stomach. He feels like the floor has disappeared beneath him, and he’s falling, falling down into that familiar pit that he hates, hates, _hates_ so much.

_Oh, you’re Sora’s younger brother right? Well, we can expect great things from you then._

_I don’t understand why you can’t do this, Roxas. Neither of your brothers had a problem with it._

_Ah yes, of course, the youngest. Well, it’s only natural for you to enter the family business too, right?_

He wasn’t qualified for this job. Not really, not specifically. And the interview had shown that, both to him and to Saïx. He hadn’t expected a positive answer. He was beyond surprised when he got the call telling him he could start next Monday, wondering if they were really so short on people that they were desperate enough to go for him.

Now he knows why.

He feels anger cursing through his body and it’s a familiar feeling, one he knows, and maybe more importantly, one he knows how to channel, much better than sadness or disappointment. Except that in this conference room, with so many people looking at him, waiting for his answer, there’s only so much he _can_ do.

He looks up and stares right at the man smirking at him and grinds out between clenched teeth, “I don’t.”

Xemnas’ eyebrows rise ever so slightly, his smile never falters. “Are you sure?” he asks, “Because given your previous working experience, I’d have assumed that…”

“I have _nothing_ to add,” Roxas hisses, and he crosses his arms to hide the fact that his fingers are trembling.

Xemnas isn’t bothered by the interruption, if anything, the smirk on his face widens. “Ah, well,” he says. “Perhaps something might occur to you later. We always appreciate input from our new talents.”

The look on Xaldin’s face across the table very clearly says _“Since when?”,_ but Saïx has already taken over and switched to the previous slide in their presentation. He says something about incorporating the results into their next campaign, but Roxas isn’t listening. His fists are clenched tightly beneath the table. He drowns out Saïx’s voice, he doesn’t hear the answers Xion and Axel give to his questions. He doesn’t follow the input from his colleagues, and only when Zexion stands up and hands out some copies does he realise that they probably moved on to the next item on the agenda.

He ignores Xion’s concerned gaze, ignores Axel’s whispered “Are you okay? Roxas? What’s going on?” He keeps staring at the man at the other end of the table, who keeps looking at him with thinly veiled amusement, like Roxas is some lab rat he likes to see squirm.

_Fuck my life._

* * *

When the meeting ends, Roxas is the first one out of the room.

The door behind him slams into the wall with so much force that it almost hits Xion when it bounces back as she and Axel run out after Roxas.

They find him at his desk, pulling out random things from his drawers and throwing them into a cardboard box that once contained copy paper.

“Roxas?” Xion asks, sounding perplexed and concerned, which is exactly how Axel feels right now. “What the _fuck_ was that about?” he asks, and winces when Roxas slams his drawer shut and throws his headphones into the box with so much force that Axel can hear plastic breaking. “What are you _doing_?”

“I’m _leaving_ ,” Roxas growls. He has moved on to the second drawer and is pulling candy out of it by the handful. Half of it lands on the ground, but Roxas either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “This was a mistake.”

“Hey,” Axel says, and he shares a concerned look with Xion before he approaches Roxas slowly, as if he’s approaching a wild animal, “I don’t know what’s going on or what just happened in there, but… can we talk about this?”

“There’s _nothing_ to talk about,” Roxas replies, “This doesn’t work, I should have known it wouldn’t work, it was a _stupid_ idea to begin with…” He grabs a stapler off his desk and stares at it like he’s ready to murder someone. “Everybody, literally _everybody_ warned me about this, but did I listen? Of fucking course not.” Axel notices that Roxas’ hands are shaking ever so slightly, and he feels extremely brave when he uses the second when Roxas’ movement stills for a moment to reach out, not actually touching Roxas but instead holding out his hand as if to take the stapler away from him. “Hey,” he says again, softly, and Roxas looks up, his expression still murderous, “I have no clue what’s going on, but clearly, something happened in there. And I don’t know what, but…” he looks at Xion behind him, her eyes wide and concerned, “… we’d like to help?” he offers and turns back to Roxas.

It’s probably only for a second that Roxas stares at him, his gaze heavy and angry and something else that Axel can’t identify, but it feels much, much longer. Suddenly though, all anger drains from his face and he sits down heavily on his chair. His shoulders drop, and he looks defeated, the stapler limp in his hands.

Axel hears whispered voices behind him and he looks up to see Larxene and Demyx peering into the room, naked curiosity on her faces. He’s at the door in an instant. “Hey guys, do us a favour and kindly fuck off,” he says in a friendly tone before he pointedly slams the door into their faces. He hears Larxene’s protest but he has neither time nor interest to decipher what exactly she’s yelling at him from the other side of the wall. Instead, he kneels down in front of Roxas. Xion is hovering by his side too, her hand halfway to Roxas’ shoulder, but seemingly uncertain as if to touch him or not.

“Okay,” Axel says, and he is glad when Roxas meets his gaze. “So, what’s up?”

Roxas inhales deeply, while the arm not holding the stapler curls around his body, holding onto himself. “I don’t know where to start,” he finally says.

“Start at the beginning. I hear it’s a very good place to start,” Axel offers.

That gets a smile out of Roxas, a weak one, but at this point, Axel is glad for any kind of positive reaction.

“I…” Roxas says, and Xion nods encouragingly and now dares to place her hand carefully, gingerly on his arm in silent support. “Do you know the name of the guy who owns _Highwind Enterprises_?” he asks. “The oldest son who took over a few years ago?” Axel frowns. He knows he’s read the name somewhere, but he reads many names and honestly, they’re not that interesting to remember. “So… Sol… Son… something… Hikari?”

“Sora Hikaru,” Xion says, quietly. Her face is still a big question mark. Roxas nods and adds, his tone defeated, “And I suppose you remember my last name?”

“Hika…” Xion stops mid-sentence, her eyes wide as realisation dawns on Axel as well. “Man, that’s like, a _really_ common name,” he says slowly, “But I guess you’re telling us that in this case this is no coincidence?”

Roxas shakes his head lightly. “Sora is my oldest brother,” he says and stares darkly at the stapler in his hands. “My other brother, Ven, works for the company as well. He’s head of design.”

“Wait,” Axel says, while the puzzle pieces of Roxas Hikaru slowly start to fall into place, “Are you telling us that our biggest rival on the market is your _family’s business_?”

Roxas sighs. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“So…” Xion says, slowly, “You could also be working for them?”

“I _have_ worked with them,” Roxas says. He sounds miserable. “For almost two years.”

“Okay,” Axel says and frowns, because he’s still missing at least one vital puzzle piece. “And you’re here now because…?”

“Because I _hated_ working there,” Roxas says. It sounds angry, but not like the directionless anger from five minutes ago. It sounds _old_ , like an anger he’s used to and tired of, and this time, Axel doesn’t stop himself from reaching out and carefully placing one hand on Roxas’ knee. “It’s been the same fucking thing ever since middle school. Everyone always already knew Sora and Ven – the teachers, the older children – and Sora has always been crazy popular and Ven’s the definition of ambition, so I was _always_ just the youngest brother, who was, you know. Not-Sora and not-Ventus.”

Roxas isn’t looking at them, instead, he is staring at the stapler in his hands while the words tumble out of his mouth, “It was easier in college, because I did not attend the same university Sora and Ven went to. It was actually quite nice, not being compared all the time. After college, my first job was at some ratty computer firm across town. It was awful, but I stayed for a whole year until they went bankrupt. Of course Sora offered me a job at _Highwind_ immediately, but I was afraid it would be the exact same thing all over again.” He shrugs, “I interned with two other shitty companies before I gave in and started at _Highwind_. And it was okay, for a while. But then our father had all these health issues and Sora took over the management and Ven got promoted, and suddenly it was all ‘Roxas, can’t you talk to your brother about this and that’ and ‘Ha ha, maybe we should ask Roxas to negotiate for a pay raise’.” 

“Was that really so bad?” Axel asks, because he can’t quite imagine it. But hey, he’s the older brother, and he didn’t exactly have the normal sibling-relationship growing up anyway, so what does he know?

“ _Yes_ ,” Roxas hisses. “It _sucks_ when everything you do is viewed in light of your fucking family. If you succeed at something, well, it’s the genes, right? Just runs in the family. And if you fuck up, it’s either ‘Doesn’t matter, it’s not like we can fire him’ or ‘Wow, guess we know who’s the family disappointment now’.”

Roxas’s hands are balled into tight fists now, his right hand still holding on to the stapler. Xion’s voice is quiet and soft when she asks, “Do your brothers know where you work now?”

“Yeah they do,” Roxas says and he sounds frustrated again. “And they hate it. Ven understands, I think, a little bit at least. But Sora, he… he doesn’t get what this feels like. Because he’s _Sora_. He’s just… he’s a force of gravity. He just pulls people in, and... and honestly, he’s a bit of an idiot, like, _all the time_ , and people don’t care, they just love him anyway. And I _get_ it, because I love him too, I just… I just wanted something for myself. Something where people wouldn’t look at me and see Sora’s or Ven’s brother, just…” He lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug, “…just, you know. _Me_.”

“And you thought getting a job with your brother’s biggest rival company was the smartest way to achieve that?” Axel asks, his voice laced with doubt.

Roxas laughs without humour. “Trust me, that was _not_ the plan. Since I was planning on leaving, I just figured I’d try and get some experience with job interviews, so I just randomly applied everywhere. I never in a million years expected them to actually hire me.” He frowns, and the anger is back in his voice when he says, “And then I thought; ‘Hey, why not try it? If it doesn’t work out, I’m not worse off than before.’ I hoped that nobody would get the family connection because as you said, it’s a common name and I wasn’t in any of the news articles that featured Sora.”

He scowls at the wall, and Axel turns around for a second before he realises that Roxas is looking at the direction of the conference room. “But _clearly_ , Xemnas knew exactly who I was when he hired me.”

Axel thinks back to his talk with Saïx.

_“An experiment.”_

_“A risk I was unwilling to take.”_

_Of course_. Axel can only imagine how thrilled Xemnas must have been when he realised who Roxas was. Probably less so because he viewed Roxas as an actual source of information, but mainly because Xemnas really enjoys fucking with people. And Saïx, with his constant paranoia… oh man, Axel thinks, Roxas has no idea what he has gotten himself into.

Though when he looks at Roxas and sees the expression on his face, a strange mixture of anger and frustration, sadness and disappointment, he silently adds, _Well, maybe he does now_.

“But this is ridiculous,” Xion says. She has crouched down a while ago, her back supported by the wall behind her and her arms resting on her knees while she looks up at Roxas, a frown on her face. “I mean, I don’t deny that there might be a slight conflict of interests, but honestly, we’re all adults. If you want to work for a different company than your family’s, that’s your choice, and it’s nobody else’s business.”

Roxas shakes his head, “You heard what he said. The whole “Do you have something to add?”-thing. Surely everyone who’s not deaf noticed, so by Monday it will be common news, and then it’ll be just like _Highwind_ all over again. Or well. Worse.” He sighs, a long exhale of breath, and then looks up, first at Axel, then at Xion, and then back at Axel. “It’s a mess, and I don’t know what to do about this,” he says.

He sounds so lost that Axel wants to reach out to him, almost on impulse, but he doesn’t know how. And in this moment, Axel realises two things:

  1. He really, really doesn’t like Xemnas very much right now. Or Saïx, for that matter. He’s been making excuses for their way of handling company matters for a long time, but he feels like it might be time to draw a line, right here and now.
  2. He’s kinda sorta definitely in love with the man sitting across his desk.



Neither of these realisations feels surprising, but they come with a fresh clarity, and clarity is something Axel appreciates. It something he can work with.

“Well, I don’t know about that either,” Axel says and straightens, wincing when he feel the muscles in his back protest against being hunched over for so long. He rolls his shoulders once and then grins down at Xion and Roxas. “But I know what we do now.”

* * *

Roxas wasn’t aware that the beach is within walking distance of this office. The previously blue sky is now slate-grey, with ominous clouds racing each other at the horizon. The waves crash against the shore with force and anger, loud enough to drown out any other sound once they’re close enough.

Roxas thinks it’s nice of nature to accommodate his mood.

“Do you know the best way to let off steam?” Axel asks, almost yelling the question in Roxas’ ear to be heard over the sound of the waves. Roxas raises an eyebrow quizzically, and Axel grins. “Watch,” he says, and suddenly, he is screaming at the ocean, his voice rising and falling against and with the tide, his whole body tense and turned toward the crashing waves. Roxas watches, mesmerized, until Axel looks at him over his left shoulder with a crooked grin.

“Wanna give it a try?” Axel asks. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.

Roxas doesn’t remember making the conscious decision but suddenly, he is screaming at the waves, voice too high and cracking, and he has to take a deep breath before he continues screaming. He screams, screams at everyone he’s angry with – his father, his mother, Sora, his boss, Sora, Ven, himself himself _himself_ – until his voice breaks and he staggers forward, suddenly feeling drained.

An arm catches him around the shoulders, steadying him. When he looks up, Axel is looking down at him, his expression anxious and proud and concerned and _soft_ in a way Roxas has never seen on him before.

“That,” Axel says as he tugs Roxas against his side and steers him towards the promenade, “was impressive.” Roxas makes no move to shrug off the arm around his shoulders; in fact, he leans into the warmth of Axel’s dark jacket and lets it anchor him in the moment.

Xion is waiting for them on a wooden bench so old that the green paint is peeling off in large flakes.

“I bought us ice-cream,” she says and hands Roxas a wrapped cone when he sits down next to her. Axel settles in on his other side and immediately starts to complain about the flavour – _“Sea-salt? Come on, that’s not even original” “It’s almost eight in the evening, Axel, there wasn’t much left.”_ – and Roxas watches how the waves continue to crash against the rocks.

“So, care to tell us what you plan to do now?” Axel’s voice is quiet. Roxas unwraps the ice-cream and carefully takes a first bite before he answers, “I don’t know.”

“Well, Xemnas isn’t going to pass up an opportunity to use your family connections,” Axel says thoughtfully. “I can’t even imagine his smug expression when he realised who you were.”

_I can_ , Roxas thinks, and remembers the way Xemnas looked at him on the day of his interview, _I’ve seen it_.

“He hates _Highwind Enterprises_ ,” Xion says, “Do you remember how he reacted when Luxord told him that they had the highest sales figures last year?”

Axel shudders. “Well, I guess he kinda hates all of his competitors,” he says, and carefully licks his ice-cream. “And, you know, people in general. But you’re right, the thing with _Highwind_ feels more personal.” His gaze seeks out Roxas’. “I mean, there’s not much he can do about it, I suppose, other than send your brother a card with your picture and the caption “Na-na-na-na-na”. But if he _can_ use it to his advantage, he will.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Roxas says quietly. “Do you think he’s going to leave me alone once he realises he’s not getting any intel out of me?”

Axel hesitates with his answer. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he’ll try to wear you down by dragging it to the spotlight at every team meeting. Maybe he’ll just pester you to see how long it’ll take for you to crack. Maybe he’ll leave you alone until it’s convenient for him to bring it up again, I don’t know.” He’s still looking at Roxas, and Roxas wonders when exactly he has decided to trust Axel, “But he’s not going to forget, that’s for sure.”

“And I don’t think Saïx trusts you,” Xion says thoughtfully. “I mean, the way he’s picking on you sometimes… he’s really paranoid, and I don’t know if working together with him will be pleasant for you.”

Roxas nods. He’s come to the same conclusion. What he hasn’t decided yet – is he leaving? Or is he staying?

“You have the whole weekend to think about what you want to do now,” Xion says, and Roxas is startled by how well she follows his train of thoughts. “I mean, we can all just guess what’s going to happen. But you know – you could also just stay for now, and see whether it actually will be that bad or not?”

“Yeah,” Axel agreed. “I mean, I know you wanted to leave earlier, but think about it – what _can_ they actually do?”

“And,” Xion says, and Roxas is surprised to feel her hand on his arm, small and warm and solid, “I mean, I know this isn’t a deciding factor in all this, but I’d like you to know that Axel and I really would like you to stay.”

Roxas looks at her genuine smile, and then at Axel, who’s looking at him with that same soft expression from before, and all he can do is nod mutely.

He feels empty, and drained, and tired. Perhaps he should still feel angry, too, but Xion’s foot is nudging his, urging him to eat up, and Axel’s body is pressed close to his side, radiating warmth, and the taste of ice cream on his tongue is bitter and sweet and familiar, and somehow?

It’s weirdly okay.


	3. Gaining Momentum

Larxene pulls Axel aside the moment he steps off the elevator on Monday morning, her fingers digging uncomfortably through his leather jacket. “Is it true?” she asks, curiosity and scandal glittering in her eyes. “That kid in your office is _Highwind_ royalty?”

Xigbar and Marluxia have assembled around Demyx’ desk, the latter who looks for once interested in something going on in the office, which might be a first. Axel doesn’t know which one of the idiots in the office has pieced two and two together over the weekend, but he does the only thing he can do: he smiles brightly at their curious stares and replies, his voice all innocent, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Larxene snorts, “Like hell you don’t. You’ve been all over that kid ever since day one. If someone knows, it’s you.”

“True, true,” Axel agrees easily, “And I tell you again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looks at his naked wrist and lets out a loud yelp of surprise, “Oh my, look at the time. I should have been at my desk ages ago.” He tugs his arms free of Larxene’s iron grip, who yells “Fuck you”, after him. He waves kindly and walks briskly to his office. Xion is already there and when he enters her head snaps up, only to look mildly disappointed when she sees him. Normally, Axel would be affronted by such a reaction, but today, he understands what it’s about.

“No sign of him yet?” he asks and nods to the empty desk across from him.

“Not _yet_ ,” Xion says stubbornly. They wait in silence while Axel starts his computer, both listening for the sound of familiar footsteps. At five to eight, Axel is almost ready to give up and drown his disappointment in coffee. He is halfway out of his chair already when he hears the scraping of sneakers on the linoleum outside. A moment later, Roxas barrels through the door and almost runs right into Axel. He skids into a halt right in front of the other man, who reaches out on impulse to steady him by grabbing his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Roxas says breathlessly. “They didn’t announce the construction on the subway. I waited for fifteen minutes and then I just ran.”

Axel doesn’t know what to say. A shiver of relief is running through his whole body and he knows he has the stupidest grin on his face. He has spent the whole fucking weekend wondering what he’d do if Roxas didn’t show up. Try to talk to him again? Try to talk to Saïx, or maybe even Xemnas? The only conclusion he’d come to was that not doing anything was not an option, that he would have to try, something, just once. 

“Well, you’re here now,” he says, because that’s kind of all that matters, right?

“Sure,” Roxas says, straightens his jacket and walks over to his desk, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His tone is decidedly indifferent and Axel looks at Xion, who nods in silent understanding. If Roxas has chosen to ignore the issue, they’ll go along with it. Axel thinks it might be a smart choice for now, and they can worry about Xemnas and Saïx another day.

“I’m getting us coffee,” Axel says, “Milk no sugar for Xion, sugar for Rox, correct?”

“Yup,” Xion replies, and Roxas looks mildly surprised, but just says, “Lots of sugar.”

“Until it doesn’t taste like coffee anymore, yeah, yeah, I know,” Axel says. “I might as well just get you a coke. Same ingredients.” He grins at the way Roxas rolls his eyes at him.

He’s tempted to whistle on his way to the coffee machine, but Zexion and Luxord are there and they’re already looking at him like he’s nuts when he greets them with “Monday is the best day of the week, don’t you think?” and honestly?

He couldn’t care less.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, most people leave Roxas alone. He’s sure that everyone and their grandma know about his family ties to _Highwind_ , but the majority of his colleagues keep quiet about it. Sure, Demyx asks him twice, his expression puzzled, “Okay, but like, what are you doing _here_?” and Larxene has started to call him “princeling”, a nickname he steadfastly ignores. But overall, the fallout is much less noticeable then he expected.

He is pretty sure that he has Axel to thank for that, Axel and his way with people, but when he flat out asks him about it, Axel merely answers, “I’ve been saying that a lot lately, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” While his voice is utterly serious, his wink isn’t, and Roxas is glad that he isn’t easily prone to blushing like Sora is, because when he grins at Axel in lieu of reply, his stomach feels weirdly warm.

They begin to hang out at the beach regularly after work, all three of them, eating ice-cream and wandering around the sandy dunes, climbing over rocks and ruining their pants by staining them with salt water.

Xion is usually the one to leave first since she has the longest drive home and the busses don’t run that late, but Roxas and Axel often find reasons to hang around a little while longer. Roxas doesn’t mind – it’s not like he has someone waiting for him back home, and Axel is good company. Roxas wonders when exactly they have stopped being just colleagues and started being friends, but he likes the development, so he doesn’t dwell on it too much.

One Friday night, when they’ve lingered on the beach long enough to watch the sun set in bright orange and muted red, Axel asks him if he wants to accompany him to his apartment, for some dinner and maybe videogames?

Roxas hesitates only for a moment, aware that he’s crossing another line between them, but he just shrugs and says, “Sure” like it’s no big deal.

_(It isn’t._

_It shouldn’t be._

_It is.)_

Axel doesn’t live far away, almost exactly between the office and the beach. His flat is more of a single room, really, and looks more like a college dorm than the apartment of a man in his early thirties. There’s a kitchen cabinet squeezed into a corner and a tiny door that opens up to an equally tiny bathroom. A ladder leads up to a loft bed, with a couch underneath that looks like Axel found it in the trash somewhere, next to a bookcase spilling over with folders, paperbacks, CDs and DVDs in no apparent order. The table that the tiny TV rests on has duct tape wrapped around two of its legs, and beneath are several game consoles in varying states of dustiness. Roxas can identify two playstations, an x-box and what looks like a… Nintendo 64?

“Wow, you’re old-school,” he says, crouching down to have closer look.

“Nah,” Axel replies, “I’m just old.” He grins when Roxas sorts through the cartridges, “It’s the best console of all time though.”

Roxas snorts, “Yeah, no. That’s the Master System. Always has been, always will be.”

Axel rolls his eyes, “Figures you’d be Sega. Oh well, I might convince you yet.” He grins and walks over to the kitchen. “Let me check if I can offer you something homemade or if we have to resort to take-out.”

Roxas uses the time he has while Axel noisily sorts through his kitchen to look at the contents of the bookcase. Pinning down Axel’s taste isn’t easy. He apparently listens to punk, rock, hip hop, jazz, some metal, pop, and even a number of musicals. His book collection includes Stephen King, Stephen Hawking, Terry Pratchett, Toni Morrison, Agatha Christie, Ernest Hemmingway, Dan Brown, Stieg Larsson and Mary Shelley next to a massive assortment of independent and superhero comics and some _Akira_ and _Monster_ mangas, and a collection of _Die Hard_ movies in no particular order sits right next to what looks like a Bollywood movie and _Pride and Prejudice_.

There’s a framed photograph in a corner, carefully tucked away from the chaos threatening to spill out of the shelves. The photo seems to be older – at least Axel’s hair is considerably shorter – and shows the other man laughing at the camera, his arm loosely around a girl shorter than him, hair wine-red and her smile as big as Axel’s.

“Who’s that?” Roxas asks and carefully lifts the frame from its position to inspect the picture.

“My sister, Kairi,” Axel says. He comes to stand next to Roxas and looks over his shoulder. Suddenly, Roxas is acutely aware of the warmth of Axel’s chest close to his back. 

“Younger?” Roxas asks.

“Yup. She’s finishing college right now, just like Xion,” Axel says, and the pride in his voice is impossible to miss. “Got a scholarship at Daybreak Academy.”

Roxas whistles, impressed. Daybreak has a stellar reputation, and even Sora’s numerous recommendations couldn’t balance out his grades enough for him to get in.

“Do you see her often?” he asks.

“I try to visit every second weekend,” Axel says, “If I can take a day or two off at work, that is. The train ride is seven hours.” He shrugs, “Right now, it’s more like once a month though. Her exams are coming up, and you know how much work we have, so…”

“Yeah,” Roxas says, contemplating this. He has always lived in the same town as his family, and even college was just a thirty-minute train journey away. And sure, he has kept his distance, especially these past months but still – it’s nice to know that he _could_ visit them anytime. Hypothetically.

“She looks a lot like you,” he says, and when he turns around, Axel’s grin is wide and teasing. “Aw, thanks, but I have to let you in on two secrets.” He leans forward, his breath ghosting over Roxas’ ear. “We’re not actually related,” he says, and his gaze is open and honest for a moment, before the honesty vanishes behind another mischievous grin and he adds, “And those are not our actual hair colours.”

Roxas scoffs and reaches out to tug at one of the bright red strands of hair falling over Axel’s shoulders. “I never would have guessed,” he says dryly, tugging once more before Axel swats his hand away and laughs.

He knows how to react to the teasing.

He doesn’t know what to say to _We’re not actually related_.

“So, dinner?” Axel says. “I can offer pasta with nothing or pancakes, and a large assortment of menus from the local restaurants, some of which I have on speed dial.”

Roxas shrugs. “Pizza?” he offers, because it’s his favourite, to which Axel easily agrees, “Sure.” The framed photograph is still in Roxas’ hand. He wipes over the corner with his thumb, catching only the barest amount of dust. There are so many questions heavy on his tongue, none of which he knows how to phrase, and perhaps it shows on his face because when he looks up Axel is smiling at him. The other man reaches out and carefully takes the frame away from Roxas.

“One day, I’ll tell you all about my sordid family – and Kairi,” he says, and it sounds both like teasing and a promise. “But for now, just dinner?”

Roxas nods mutely. Yes. For now, dinner is fine.

* * *

Xion leaves in the middle of May and Axel hates it.

He understands why, of course. Xion still has to write her final thesis and the report for her internship, both for which she has barely three months. Axel isn’t worried about her – he’s convinced Xion can do anything she puts her mind to, though it’ll undoubtedly be stressful. What helps, hopefully, is that they all know she has a guaranteed job here waiting for her after her graduation.

But he knows he’s going to miss her, and he knows that this means far more work for him and Roxas and – he shudders – far more phone calls and listening to Xehanort’s incoherent ramblings. He has overheard that Saïx has been in contact with Naminé, who has promised to come back to fill in during the months Xion will be gone. He’s not a fan of the arrangement – Naminé has more than earned her leave, and he kinda hates that she’s too nice to say no to Saïx. 

And there’s another thing, and that’s the thought of being alone in the office with Roxas.

Most of the time, Axel is good at hiding his feelings. He knows he’s pretty much head over heels for Roxas at this point, but he can’t decipher Roxas’ feelings on the matter _at all_ , and given that he usually prides himself for being good at reading people, he finds his new experience rather unsettling.

It’s not like he hasn’t done anything about it though. He’s tried some light flirting. He walked in one sunny morning, feeling unusually happy and optimistic and just randomly smiled at Roxas and said, “Good morning, how is my favourite co-worker today?”

Roxas hadn’t even glanced up from his monitor. He was tapping a pencil against his bottom lip, and the end of the pencil looked like he had been chewing on it for some time.

“Xion isn’t here, she’s meeting with Lexaeus and Xaldin,” he said.

Axel rolled his eyes and said, “I meant you, doofus.”

The pencil stilled momentarily against Roxas’ bottom lip, before it resumed its tapping, “Oh.”

Axel waited for thirty seconds before he sighed inwardly and leaned across his desk, over Roxas’ monitor, aware that some of his hair was blocking the screen. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said, and tried his most playful smile, the one that always worked on Larxene. Roxas looked up at him, his expression startled. “Huh?” he said, blinking for a second. “Oh, yeah. I’m okay.” He bit down on his pencil and used his right hand to brush some of Axel’s hair away, gaze already back on the monitor. “Did you get the notes from the last meeting? It’s like Demyx has never written a full sentence in his fucking life,” he said, and Axel let himself fall back in his chair in silent frustration.

So yeah. That went nowhere, much like the other conscious attempts Axel made.

What helps _and_ hurts is that Roxas seems to remain blissfully unaware of Axel’s attempts at flirting, and since he doesn’t take any shit from Axel, his quick comebacks usually keep things from becoming awkward, even if Axel says something weird.

But Axel knows that the awareness of Xion being in the room with them has helped him _not_ to stare at Roxas over his monitor for too long, has prevented him from smiling like an idiot every time Roxas refills Axel’s coffee mug alongside his own.

Overall, he has to admit that he has no idea where he stands with Roxas. He’s pretty sure they’re friends by now, but there are all these weird lines with Roxas that he knows are potentially dangerous to cross. Sometimes, when he catches Roxas looking at him with a strange expression on his face, or when Roxas is smiling at him like he only rarely does, wide and bright and honest, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, Roxas might be interested in him too.

But those moments are far and in between, and for the first time in his life, Axel finds his love life to be stuck.

* * *

The sound of paper hitting paper isn’t loud enough to reach Roxas’ ears over the music blaring from his headphones, but the sudden movement of a folder falling on the edge of the keyboard is certainly enough to make him flinch.

“What the…” he murmurs, and looks up into the distinctly displeased face of Saïx frowning down at him.

 _Oh. Shit_.

Hastily, Roxas slides his headphones off his ears, just in time to catch the last half of Saïx’ sentence.

“… would appreciate it if you’d remembered to check your emails regularly, Mr. Hikaru,” he says. Roxas blinks, confident that he actually _has_ checked his emails like half an hour ago, but clicks on the program to refresh his inbox just in case.

There are three new emails from Saïx. The last dates back two minutes ago.

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

“As I said, Mr Hikaru,” Saïx continues, “I believe all of our work would speed up immensely if I weren’t required to come in here every five minutes to alert you to urgent matters. Now, if you wouldn’t mind prioritising the proof-reading of these figures over your other, undoubtedly also pressing tasks, I’d be ever so grateful.”

His voice drips with heavy sarcasm, and he doesn’t give Roxas even a second to come up with a response, but merely turns around on his heels and stalks out of the office, leaving Roxas to stare after him in silent anger.

“Has he always been a _dick_?” Roxas asks finally, not bothering to lower his voice.

“Maybe,” Axel replies. His tone is hesitant, and he’s staring past his monitor with a small frown in the crease between his eyebrows. “But not like this, no. I mean, he’s always been a bit uptight, yeah, but he was actually fun at college. And, you know, kind of a good friend.”

His tone is sad, and Roxas doesn’t like it. He likes when Axel is happy, or silly, or an ass, but he doesn’t like the crestfallen expression on Axel’s face, the way he’s looking at Roxas but not _seeing_ Roxas, but he doesn’t know what to do other than listen as Axel continues, “It started when… well, he worked here first, I only joined the company a year later. And it was already different, back then. But… I don’t know. He changed a lot.”

He turns around and looks at the door now, and his voice has dropped to low timbre, as if he doesn’t want anyone but Roxas to hear this. “At first, it was like Xemnas’ opinion was the only thing that mattered. Now, I’m not even sure he cares for Xemnas anymore.” Axel shakes his head, “Honestly, I don’t know what drives him these days. But I’d trade him for the guy he was before any time.”

Roxas is silent and thinks about Axel’s words. He’s sort of always had the same group of friends ever since high school, and sure, they changed, he supposes. All of them did, but if they did, they changed in a way that was never disruptive to their friendship. Roxas knows his inferiority complex concerning Sora and Ven has become worse over the last years, but even this is nothing new, and nothing that Hayner, Pence and Olette don’t know how to handle.

“I think…” he says, and then pauses, carefully rolling his words over in his mind before he voices them, wanting to comfort Axel with more than empty platitudes. “I think sometimes, when people change, we can’t really do anything about it? All we can do is either change with them or maybe change the way they fit into our lives.” He shrugs, “I mean, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know? More like a… readjustment.”

Axel nods, slowly, his eyes still on the door. “Yeah,” he says, “Maybe.”

Then he turns around and looks at Roxas and smiles, “And, also, you never know when someone new stumbles into your office on the day your computer decides to go all harakiri on your ass.”

Roxas grins when he remembers his first day at work. “I have to admit, you’re slightly more competent than you appeared that day,” he says dryly and Axel nods gravely. “First impressions can be so misleading,” he says. “But hey – you are actually exactly as much a pain in the neck as I anticipated back then.”

“Thanks,” Roxas says, “I try.”

They’re grinning at each other again in that weird way that they do sometimes, and Roxas feels a bit lighter. But he catches the way Axel’s gaze travels back to the door in silent contemplation, and he realises he would now like to kick Saïx for different reasons than before.

* * *

Naminé is a nice woman. Roxas thinks it’s strange that she’s presumably older than he is, but looks _so_ much younger with her pale skin and huge eyes. Axel is friendly enough with Naminé, but it’s strangely reserved and polite, like he’s perpetually afraid of breaking her. She is efficient, though, and having her for support makes dealing with Saïx and his erratic management of task distribution much easier.

But still…

“It’s a bit quiet, with Xion gone, isn’t it?” Roxas asks one day when Naminé is out on her lunch break. Axel interrupts his attempts to restart his printer with the tip of his pencil to look up at him.

“Kinda, yeah,” he sighs. “But only imagine how awfully quiet it’s gonna be when I’m gone.”

Roxas head snaps up, and he doesn’t realise he’s halfway out of his chair when he asks, “You’re leaving?!”

Surprise colours Axel’s features, and he holds up his hands in a placating manner, “ _Woah_ , hey, no, I’m not. I’m just gone for the next two weeks, special training seminar in another town. I thought I told you.”

“You didn’t,” Roxas says. He feels stupid, and he sits down again immediately, hiding his face behind the monitor.

They’re quiet for a moment.

“I’ll be here til Friday,” Axel says finally.

“Uh-hu.”

“We could go for ice-cream tonight. Or tomorrow.”

“Maybe.”

“Or dinner?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

There’s another moment of silence, and Roxas yelps when suddenly, Axel’s face is close to his. He instinctively pushes his chair backwards against the wall behind him, enough to see that Axel is leaning over the entirety of their two desks, feet dangling in the air above him. His face is still close and his gaze is earnest when he says, “You know, it’s okay to miss me.”

Roxas scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Oh please. I’m not going to miss you. It’s just for two weeks.”

Axel tilts his head to the side, his expression teasing and curious and honest all at once, “Not even a little bit?”

“No,” Roxas says, and he knows it doesn’t sound convincing. And strangely, he’s kind of okay with that.

“Hmm,” Axel replies, and his grin deepens. “Sure.”

Roxas feels himself grinning back. Suddenly feeling bold, he blurts out the question he’s been turning over in his head for the last couple of weeks, “You know, you could give me your phone number? Just in case any emergency comes up, or if we have a question…”

“Sure,” Axel says, easily, and extends his hand to Roxas for him to hand over his phone. He punches in a few numbers and then calls his phone to get Roxas’ number. Roxas rolls his eyes when receives his phone back and sees that Axel has named his contact “Hottest co-worker”.

“That’s debateable,” he says, deletes it and contemplates typing in “Idiot red-head” before he decides to go with just “Axel”.

Axel grins and shows him his phone. It’s his number, and above that is a picture of Axel’s potted plant, titled ‘Short stuff’.

“I hate you,” Roxas informs him without malice, and Axel just grins. “Nah,” he says, and pockets his phone. “You like me enough to miss me.”

“We’ll see about that,” Roxas mutters, even though he fears that Axel might be right.

* * *

Axel is gone for three days, and Roxas is trying to convince himself that his own shitty mood has nothing to do with it.

There are, after all, so many other reasons to be in a shitty mood.

Maybe it’s because the number of people in their office has diminished, but Roxas doesn’t like how behind they are with their work. It feels like every five minutes Saïx walks in to drop another folder or email or post-it note on the already substantial pile on Roxas’ desk. Sometimes, he spares him some comment or a ‘suggestion’ that always sounds like an order, but most times, he just glares at the pile in silent reprimand before he walks out again, leaving Roxas silently fuming.

He likes Naminé well enough, and they chat pleasantly, but there’s no one to grin at him over the edge of his monitor, no one to whisper snide remarks over the latest office drama and no one to shield him from Saïx’ comments.

He misses Xion. And yeah, he misses Axel. A lot. And since he kinda hates himself for admitting that, he spends his week in a mood of subdued annoyance, glaring daggers at everyone who enters their office to ask about Axel’s whereabouts.

The weather forecast has promised thunderstorms all week and for once, they stay true to their word. It even starts _hailing_ on Wednesday, with hailstones as big as tennis balls thundering to the ground. Roxas spends the afternoon listening to the horrified cries and moans of those who own a car, hoping the best and fearing the worst.

Around half past five, most people have left, Naminé among them. Roxas takes a long look at the pile on his desk, apparently no smaller than this morning, and at the storm outside, and decides to stay, at least long enough to make some progress and, hopefully, for the weather to calm down. 

Around half past six, he’s actually made some progress on the pile. Since he has been reviewing the company’s performance for the next team meeting, he notices that Xemnas apparently doesn’t care for their advice to take their company in the same direction as the others. Sure, there’s a couple of fancy charity things they consider supporting, but Roxas has been with Sora long enough to know how to differentiate between Sora’s earnest efforts to make the world a better place and Xemnas’ alibi attempts to sound nicer than he is. Roxas knows a couple of the company’s partners well enough to remember that they have faced their fair share of scandals over the last years, and he doubts that Xemnas is unaware of this.

“Ah, Mr. Hikaru. I see you’re still here.” Roxas looks up, startled. Saïx is standing in the doorframe, clad in a dark rain coat and holding an umbrella in his hand, apparently ready to head home.

 _Of course_ he _remembered to bring an umbrella. Of fucking course._

“Please finish the report I assigned you until tomorrow,” Saïx says. He’s not even looking at Roxas, merely adjust the silver zipper on his black coat. “I will need it for a meeting in the morning.”

He leaves without a goodbye or a glance back. Roxas grits his teeth and waits until he hears Saïx’s footstep echo down the corridor before he curses quietly and buries his head in his arms. His back aches, and he feels frustrated and ready to hit something and… _unhappy_ in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time, not since…

He sits up suddenly and reaches for his phone in his back pocket. Before he knows what he’s doing he’s thumbing through his contacts, not far though since the name he’s searching for appears pretty much at the top of the list. He hasn’t written to Axel yet, though he’s stared at his name maybe once or twice, wondering what the other man has been up to.

He hesitates only for a moment before he types _Theoretically, if I wanted to dispose of a dead body I may or may not have murdered myself here in the office, what would you recommend? Asking for a friend_ , and hits send before he can think twice about this.

He continues to stare at his phone so he sees the screen light up with the notification of Axel’s reply not a minute later:

_Who pissed you off so badly that you had to murder them? And how?_

Roxas types, _I don’t see how my motives or the identity of my victim figure into the method of disposition_. Axel’s reply is almost immediate: _Sacrifice it to the kitchen cupboard goblin. If you manage to stuff it in there, I’m pretty sure it’ll be gone in the morning._

Roxas chuckles at Axel’s continued superstition when a second text pops up, _Wait, don’t tell me you’re still at the office?_

Roxas sighs and snaps a picture of his desk, complete with Rex peeking out behind Axel’s monitor.

 _Holy shit_ is the immediate reply, _I’m gone for three days and you’re already working overtime_.

 _Only because Saïx continues to be a dick,_ Roxas replies before he can think twice about it, and snaps another picture of the pile sitting next to him. Axel replies with a number of gifs that are alternatingly rude and sympathetic, which Roxas finds extremely comforting.

 _How’s the seminar?_ he asks, partly curious and partly just to keep the conversation going.

 _Booooring,_ is Axel’s reply. _The people are kinda cool, but we had voice training yesterday and went around the room clucking like hens and shit. So yeah, that’s an afternoon I’ll never get back._

Roxas grins and types _, I’d pay good money for video footage of that_ , and Axel replies with, _If you’re nice, I’ll ask someone to tape how I make an ass of myself at power point karaoke tomorrow_.

Roxas laughs at that, and the sound has a strange echo in the empty office. He finds that smiling like this feels weird – almost like he hasn’t done it that often over the last couple of days.

He stays for an hour longer, and even though he doesn’t get that much work done between answering Axel’s texts (only the report for Saïx, which probably sucks, but he’s beyond caring at this point), he feels a bit lighter when he walks out of the building and into the pouring rain.

* * *

Axel continues to send him messages over the next days, little notes of encouragement or anecdotes about what’s going on at his seminar, and Roxas finds himself looking forward to them more and more. He has to be careful about hiding his phone when Saïx stalks into his office unannounced, his eyes scanning for every miniscule mistake Roxas might make. Roxas only smiles politely, and sometimes even brightly when he can feel his phone buzz silently from where it’s safely stuck between his knees.

It’s not like messaging Axel is the best part of his work day.

But yeah.

It kind of is.

* * *

When Roxas arrives at the office on Monday a week later, he is greeted by a steaming cup of coffee on his desk. He eyes it suspiciously before he tentatively takes a sip. It contains the perfect amount of sugar, with just the barest hint of coffee flavour in the sweetness, and Roxas sighs happily.

“Good morning, short stuff,” a voice behind him sings brightly, and Roxas turns around so fast that he almost spills the coffee in his hands.

Axel is standing in the doorway. He looks paler than Roxas remembers, and a bit tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but his smile is the same.

“So? Did you miss me?” he asks, walking up to their desks until he stands right in front of Roxas, who feels the sudden urge to hug the other man. Instead, he puts his coffee down and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Nah,” Roxas says, but he knows grinning like an idiot. “I didn’t even notice you were gone.”

Axel leans forward, pinches his nose and whispers, “Liar” before he ruffles his hair, and his hand is warm and his smile is warm and wide and _fuck_ , Roxas is glad he’s back.

* * *

The white room is unbearably hot. The Friday afternoon sun is shining through the windows, blinding Roxas whenever he turns to the left, and he honestly questions the architect who thought it best to place the meeting room right under the fucking _roof_ of the building, where the heat is most suffocating and the aircon tries in vain to fight the humid air.

It’s his second presentation in front of his colleagues, and he’s decidedly more nervous than during the first. Partly because he misses Xion’s calming presence by his side – though Naminé is doing great –, partly because he is unnerved by feeling Xenmas’ stare on him. The content isn’t even that different from last time, but with the input from the other departments, Saïx announced that some decisions regarding the future of the company will be made today.

“Tell me again: which trends did you identify?” Xaldin asks.

Naminé clicks through their presentation to return to the respective slide while Axel replies, sounding decidedly bored, “Sustainability, health, individuality. Those are the big ones, and the ones every other company is betting on.”

“So the question,” Vexen says, without looking up from the notes he scribbles on random sheets of paper. Across the room, Marluxia is eyeing him over the edge of his fancy smartpad with something akin to pity. “The question is: which direction do we take?”

Naminé clears her throat politely. “As we tried to show, and as I believe my colleagues have already pointed out in previous meetings…” Axel nods at that, “…the decisive trend is sustainability. It would be good to be much more vocal about that in our marketing, and to review our public image accordingly.” She opens a different table, one that Roxas has been working on. “We already listed a number of easy steps that we could take into that direction, none of which would require massive changes but serve as a first rebranding of…”

“Thank you, Naminé,” Xemnas says. His voice cuts through the room like a knife, and Naminé immediately falls silent. Xemnas turns to his right and looks at Saïx. “What do you think?” he asks, maybe it’s just Roxas’, but to him, the question sounds like a test.

Saïx’ expression doesn’t change. He’s silent for a long moment, contemplating his answer, before he says, “It would be an obvious step to take our marketing in the same direction as our competitors. Predictable, and probably not successful in the long run.”

Roxas sees the way Axel frowns at that, and he’s sure his own expression mirrors Axel’s.

“It probably wouldn’t hurt to play up a few of our charitable courses,” Saïx says, and he sounds dismissive. Roxas looks at the table on the wall. He spent hours looking for things they could do, trying desperately not to copy Sora but knowing that he’s influenced by him anyway.

“But,” Saïx continues, “I think we should take our company in a different direction.”

“Which one?” Xigbar asks.

“Individuality,” Saïx says immediately. Roxas notices how the corner of Xenmas’s lips twitches upwards, a miniscule movement. “I think we should focus on marketing to the individual wants and needs of our potential costumers. By that, we can ensure to reach the largest amount of clients, and not...” his lips curl into a small smile, “…just the handful of people interested in charitable causes.”

Roxas looks at his team. Naminé’s expression looks slightly crestfallen, and he notices how she cradles a folder in her arms, a folder which he knows contains Xion’s notes on how they could improve the company’s image. Axel is still frowning, arms crossed in front of his chest, his dissatisfaction radiating from every bit of his posture.

“I agree,” Xemnas says. His expression hasn’t changed much, but he is looking at Roxas now. “I do believe that a self-centred interest is something we can count on in the future.” He pauses, and then asks, his voice almost too gentle, “Do you have anything to add to that?”

Larxene murmurs something into Lexaeus’ ear, who nods solemnly. Demyx is honest to god falling asleep in his chair, and Marluxia and Vexen type and scribble furiously. Roxas leans back in his chair, mirroring Axel’s posture. He returns Xemnas’ stare until Axel replies, “Nope. I mean, it’s not what I would have done, but it’s your decision, I guess?”

Xemnas’ lips curl into a smile that looks anything but friendly. “Thank you for your input, Axel,” he says dryly. “In that case, I suggest that you work out a way for us to rebrand our marketing accordingly until our next meeting. Under the supervision of Saïx, of course.”

The expression on Saïx’ face is decidedly smug when Xemnas turns to Xaldin and Zexion and asks them to elaborate on their latest figures.

Roxas grits his teeth. Part of him is grateful for not having been singled out this time, because he can do without Larxene snickering at him for a week.

Part of him feels extremely tired and disappointed. They all spent so much time and research on transforming the company into something resembling something, well, better. And for what?

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his knee under the table, and he when he looks up Axel is smiling at him, a bitter smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs, voice low enough not to be heard by anyone else. “We’ll come up with something good. We always do.”

Roxas feels his shoulders relax, just the tiniest bit, and he finds it in himself to smile at Axel despite the disappointment he feels. “Sure,” he says, “Yeah.”

Axel’s hand is warm and comforting through the rough fabric of Roxas’ jeans. “Let’s call Xion and go for ice-cream tonight, okay?” Axel says, and then leans back when Xaldin stares at him in silent reprimand.

And Roxas nods. Because ice-cream makes everything better.

Axel doesn’t remove his hand from Roxas’ knee for another long moment, and Roxas chooses not to comment on it.

* * *

Roxas arrives late one bright morning in August. He carries a skateboard under his arm, his hair is ever so slightly dishevelled (as dishevelled as the amount of products he uses to style it allows), the short sleeves of his shirt reveal his sun-kissed skin and Axel is once again reminded he’s in this head over heels.

“Morning,” he greets, and grins when Roxas carefully, almost lovingly places his skateboard in the corner behind his desk. “This is new.”

Roxas shrugs, and turns to glare at the bright morning sun as if it is personally offending him. “It’s the nicest way to get to work in this fucking heat.”

Axel nods. Personally he doesn’t mind the heat, but he’s been watering Rex twice a day and extra on Fridays, but his leaves are drooping and starting to turn brown along the edges. It seems neither Rex not Roxas take well to the heat. “By the way,” he says, “Naminé mentioned that you’re taking the next week off?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Roxas says, falls into his chair and kicks his computer on with a careful, practised motion. “I’m taking my vacation for the next two weeks.”

That’s a bit unexpected. It’s not unusual – most people take their vacation during the summer months. Axel knows he’s a special case, taking one or two days every month to visit Kairi. But he can’t say he’s looking forward to two full weeks without Roxas – again.

“Made any plans yet?” he asks.

Roxas sighs and pulls a granola bar out of his drawer for what Axel assumes is his breakfast. “More like they’ve been made for me,” he says around a mouthful of peanuts. “My brother’s getting married this weekend.”

“Wait,” Axel asks, “The one who owns _Highwind_ or the other one?”

“Sora, the oldest,” Roxas answers. “Riku and he have been planning this for months. You have no idea how glad I’ll be when I don’t get calls at three in the morning with Sora yelling ‘Roxas, what’s the difference between teal and cerulean?’ anymore.”

This is new information. More importantly, it’s _personal_ information, which has always been sparse with Roxas. Axel suddenly feels nervous, curious to learn more but afraid to scare Roxas off of sharing. “Can’t they afford a wedding planner?” he asks.

“They have _two_ ,” Roxas says with a sigh. “Who disagree about everything. I blame mom and dad for this. Honestly, Sora’s idea of a perfect wedding is to have a giant buffet somewhere on the beach, and Riku’s happy when Sora’s happy. But our parents talked them into this dream wedding thing, and now it’s too late to back out.”

“Have they been together for long?” Axel asks, because it’s the first normal question he can come up with when his brain is screaming: _So the oldest brother is gay. Interesting. One out of three confirmed. What do statistics say about this again? And by the way: what is your dream wedding, Roxas?_

“Yeah,” Roxas says, curls his fist around the wrapping paper and flings it into the bin with a practiced motion. “Ever since high school, but they’ve known each other since kindergarten. You know this sickly sweet best-friends-to-lovers-trope you see in every second romantic comedy?” Axel nods. “Yeah well,” Roxas adds. “That’s them.”

He sighs and pulls out his drawer again, stares down for a second with a frown and then unwraps a second granola bar. “You know what’s the worst thing about this?”

“You have to give the best man speech?” Axel guesses. Roxas shudders. “Thankfully, no. Ven’s taking over that part, I’ll just stand there and nod and smile.” He leans back, and chews thoughtfully before he continues, “The worst thing is that Sora got it into his head to invite all of his friends. And Sora has _a lot_ of friends.” He looks at Axel, “I shit you not, there’s more than six hundred people coming to this thing.”

Axel whistles, while his brain automatically calculates the approximate cost for a party that big. “Impressive. Where do you fit all these people?”

“Destiny Island,” Roxas replies. “They have like, this adventure themed resort park? Sora and Riku know the owner, and since the park is closed for minor constructions over the weekend, we have the whole venue to ourselves.”

“Wow,” Axel says, impressed. “That’s like, a six-hour drive down the beach though, isn’t it?”

“I know,” Roxas grimaces. “We leave on Friday and are back on Wednesday. Most guests leave on Monday, but we thought we’ll stay longer and enjoy the rides while we’re there.”

Axel nods. He doesn’t know why Roxas is in a sharing mood today, but he’s determined to make the most of it. “Sounds nice. Any plans for the rest of your vacation?”

And just like that, Roxas’ face closes off. He hesitates before he says, “Oh, you know. Nothing special. Just… hanging out with some friends.”

Axel raises his left eyebrow very slowly to communicate that he’s not satisfied with the answer. Roxas looks at him, his gaze dark and measured and a bit testing. “It’s kinda stupid,” he mutters after second.

“Okay,” is all Axel replies. He doesn’t probe, not verbally. He just looks at Roxas, prepared for the other man to tell him to go mind his own business, which he will then do. Or…

Roxas is looking everywhere but at Axel, and worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before he takes a deep breath and says, “Okay. Ever heard of _Mystery Tours_?”

When Axel shakes his head, Roxas continues, “They organise these, like elaborate treasure hunts. It’s like geocaching, but, you know, cooler? Like, they have a story and you learn a lot about the history of the place and there’s usually some supernatural element. My friend Pence is the one who forced us into the first one, _The Seven Wonders of Twilight Town_. We spent a week roaming the city, looking for unusual occurrences and the stories behind them. That was five years ago, and we did one each year ever since.”

“All here in Twilight Town?”

“Geez, no,” Roxas replies. “They have hundreds of locations world-wide. We’ve been to Hundred-Acre-Wood, that was fun, but more like camping and activities and sports. Then we had one at a haunted mansion close to Hollow Bastion, where we had to find out what happened to the previous owners. We were super quick with that one, but it was seriously spooky. Then there was the superhero themed one and the Disney themed one…“ he trails off when he notices the biggest grin on Axel’s face, who’s staring at him with all the fondness he can muster. “What?”

“I had my suspicions before, when you beat my ass at Mario cart,” Axel grins. “But now you have confirmed them.” He points at Roxas, a tad dramatically, perhaps. “You, my friend, are a nerd.”

Roxas opens his mouth, to protest maybe or to deny the accusation, but before the words can leave his mouth he closes it again, narrows his eyes to stare at Axel and finally says, “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Axel admits immediately. “Did you know I played DnD in high school all the way til my second year in college?”

Roxas is staring at him, and in a weird way, Axel enjoys having all of Roxas’ attention directed at himself for once.

“No way,” Roxas says, and Axel suspects Roxas is trying to picture him at a table with other people, rolling dice and moving miniatures around.

“Yes way,” Axel retorts. “We played this one campaign for four years. I had this really cool wizard character who specialised in fire magic and could bullshit his way through everything. But then our DM got dumped by his girlfriend and decided to channel it into the game, and after more than half of our party got killed off by this evil witch-seductress, that was it.”

“Harsh,” Roxas says, and Axel grins. “Kinda, yeah.”

They’re quiet for a moment after that, and Axel sees the way Roxas is looking at him, and he can practically see the wheels turning in his head. There’s the briefest moment of hesitation before Roxas asks, “So, you don’t think it’s lame then?”

“I think it sounds like a lot of fun,” Axel says, and he’s treated to one of those small smiles that don’t quite reveal Roxas’ teeth, but make him feel like the sun is rising over his monitor. “In a nerdy kind of way,” he adds, out of principle, and laughs when a balled up wrapping paper hits him on the forehead.

* * *

Roxas sends him a text from the wedding on Saturday.

It’s a picture of the biggest dessert buffet Axel has ever seen, with the caption ‘ _kay, this was actually worth everything_.

Axel looks at the rows of parfaits and soufflés, cakes and ice-cream and fruit, and tries to identify the feeling in his chest. It’s weird – he’s known that Roxas comes from a pretty wealthy family, has known that he probably has access to a lot of money. But seeing a buffet like this, something Axel could never even dream of affording, or participating in an event like this, leaves him feeling strangely distanced and detached from Roxas.

Still he replies, _Guess this is what your personal heaven looks like, right?_

He doesn’t really expect an answer, so he’s surprised when his phone chimes almost immediately. It’s a picture of a plate, stacked precariously high with slices of cake and sweets, with a large bowl of ice-cream in the middle. _Maybe_ , reads the caption, followed by another text: _Wedding menus are awesome. 11/10 can recommend. I’m going for pizza next._

Axel thinks about that for a second, decides that he needs clarification and types, _Don’t tell me you still have room after dessert?_

 _I’m_ starting _with dessert_ , is Roxas’ answer, _You should always start with dessert because then you get to pick all the good things first. There’ll be plenty pizza left later._

Axel laughs and shakes his head at that. _How was the actual wedding, by the way?_ he replies, hoping he’s not overstepping any boundaries and relieved when Roxas immediately replies _, Okay, I guess. Most people cried, including the grooms, Ven gave a pretty awesome speech, and I avoided all of the embarrassing games they forced on people later._

Axel has so many questions he wants to ask, like _How are things with your family right now? What do they think about you working with us? Is it weird? Have you told them anything about me or Xion?_ Instead, he writes: _And how’s the happy couple?_

Roxas replies once more with a picture. The lighting is pretty awful, and there are a lot of people crowding the frame, but the focus is on two men in blue suits standing in front of a wedding cake twice their size. The shorter of the two is laughing and shoving a fork full of what looks like chocolate cake in the other man’s face, missing his mouth and squishing the cake against his nose instead. The second man looks vaguely disgusted at having the tip of his nose dipped in chocolate cake, but his gaze is resting on the other man and is so full of love that Axel can see it even in the badly-lit, low resolution picture. _Very married and on their personal sugar-high_ is Roxas’ caption.

Axel grins and is already typing a reply when his phone loads a second picture. There’s Roxas, wearing a disgruntled expression, and three more faces, grinning and squishing him between them: A blond guy who appears to be a lot taller than Roxas, a brunette girl in yellow dress and a dark-haired guy with the biggest smile on his face. _Meet: Roxas and the losers, who told me to say hi to whomever I’m texting_ the caption said, and is quickly followed by _Sorry, they love an opportunity to photobomb._

Though it’s nice and weirdly unfamiliar to see Roxas surrounded by friends, they are not what captures Axel’s attention. Instead, he’s staring at Roxas, wearing a navy-blue suit that makes his already too-blue eyes sparkle, and a silver-grey tie that goes great with the whole ensemble. His disgruntled expression cannot completely mask the happiness in his eyes that might be to blame either on the happy occasion or the giant pile of dessert that’s presumably still in front of him. He looks really good and really happy, and for the first time, Axel wishes with every fibre of his being to be important enough to be invited to what’s apparently the wedding of the century.

 _Are those the other members of Mystery Inc?_ Axel replies, which is quickly answered with an affirmative _Yeah, that’s them_.

Roxas sends two more pictures on Sunday. The first one shows a breath-taking sunset ( _Am I making you jealous yet?_ ), to which Axel replies with a picture of Kairi’s cat on his back in the warm summer sunshine on her tiny balcony, all four paws in the air ( _Nah, not really. Keep trying though_.)

The second one is another selfie. Roxas is standing in front of what looks like a film setting for an Indiana Jones movie, complete with fake-ancient ruins, exotic plants and a treasure chest behind him. He’s grinning from ear to ear and points at the sign above his head that says _Dungeon Escape_. _Jealous now, nerd?_ the caption reads.

Axel stares at the grin on Roxas face, wide and open. He takes in the sun-kissed skin and the freckles on his nose and collarbone which peaks out from his loosely buttoned shirt, and how his blond hair is glowing in the bright sunshine. He’s sure ‘jealous’ isn’t precisely the way to describe what he’s feeling right now, so he just types _Only if you actually manage to find a treasure down there_.

He is still looking at the picture when suddenly, there’s a sharp chin poking into his shoulder. “Who’s that?” Kairi asks, and Axel knows that tone in her voice, the one that’s already insinuating something he sure as hell doesn’t want to talk about.

“Just a colleague,” he answers, his voice carefully casual. “You know. From work.”

Okay. Maybe too casual.

Kairi lifts her chin from his shoulder and grabs his phone with a speed that comes from years of sibling quarrels. Axel knows he could fight her, but that would surely raise her suspicions. “Wait,” she says, scrolling through his message feed, “This is _Roxas_?”

“Uhm, yeah?” Axel says, cramming his brain for what he has said about Roxas. Sure, he’s mentioned him. But not like, that often, right? Kairi whistles and her cat sits up to stare at her, clearly expecting a snack. “He’s cute,” she says, “But isn’t he a little young for you?”

“He’s twenty-eight,” Axel replies defensively, before he registers the implication, “Wait, what? Who says…”

“Don’t,” Kairi says, not even sparing him a glance while scrolling through his messages, “He’s all you’ve been talking about for the past months, and then, suddenly, you get all mysterious when I ask about him. ‘Fine, he’s fine, we’re fine, work’s fine, what have you been up to?’” Her impression of his voice is terrible, but before he can comment on that Kairi looks up and narrows her eyes at him, “The only thing I couldn’t figure out: are you two already going out or is this the awkward pre-dating phase or…?”

“Hey no,” Axel protest and grabs his phone. “It isn’t… we’re not…” Kairi is looking at him pointedly, and he sighs and relents, “Awkward I-kinda-like-him-but-don’t-know-what-to-do-about-it-phase?”

“Ask him out,” Kairi says bluntly. “He’s sending you pictures from his brother’s wedding when he could be spending time with family and friends and eating awesome dessert. He likes you. In some way, at least.” After a moment, she adds, “I think it’s good for you, you know. It’s been far too long since you’ve been with someone. And I don’t like when you’re lonely.”

Axel sighs and lifts one arm to trap her against his side and ruffle her hair. “I’m not lonely,” he says, because he isn’t, not really. “I just… he’s complicated, and I’m afraid of messing up, and it’s just… it’s not easy, taking the next step?”

Kairi nods and says, quietly, “You know what you always said back then? ‘Nothing worth anything is ever easy.’”

Axel just holds her closer, because she’s right.

She’s always right.

* * *

“So who’s Axel?”

Roxas yelps and narrowly avoids spilling his coke. He turns around to see Pence standing behind him with two plates of fries, his gaze curious.

“No one,” Roxas replies hastily and shoves his phone under the table. “Are those for me?”

There’s an amused smile curling the corners of Pence’s mouth, but he merely nods and sets down the plate in front of Roxas before he plops down into the wooden bench next to him. 

“I was just wondering,” he says, not unfriendly, and dips a fry generously into ketchup before biting into it, “You’re not normally that attached to your phone. Not when you could be riding rollercoasters.”

Roxas rolls his eyes and looks over to where Olette and Hayner are waiting in line for _Looping Scream Dream Extreme_ , which entails exactly what the tacky name promises.

“That’s the _fifth_ time they’re riding this thing,” he says, “I already felt nauseous after round two.”

“Me too,” Pence says. “So, who _is_ Axel?” His smile is pleasant, but Roxas knows Pence well enough to know that he’s not dropping the issues any time soon.

Roxas’s hands curl protectively around his phone before he can stop them. “Just a guy I work with,” he says and shrugs, hoping that his face looks as indifferent as he wants it to. “We share an office.”

Despite his carefully neutral tone, Pence looks up from his fries, his expression clearly interested. “From work?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Ah_.”

Roxas frowns at the tone of Pence’s voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Pence shrugs. “Nothing. It’s just… well, you haven’t exactly talked much about your new job, is all.”

Roxas sighs and leans back against the wooden bench behind him. It’s true – he hasn’t shared much about his new job with either his friends or his family. Mostly because all of them told him outright that he was crazy for leaving _Highwind_ to start working for _K.H. Industries_. Sora had been _hurt_ (“ _I just don’t get why you’re so unhappy here, Roxas!_ ”), Riku had been furious (“ _Seriously, Roxas, you need to grow up and get over yourself, for fuck's sake”_ ), Ven had been sympathetic but disapproving _(“I think I understand why you think you need to do this, Roxas, but I need you to know that you’re being selfish and that I don’t think this will solve whatever issue is at the bottom of this_ ”), and Hayner, Olette and Pence just didn’t try to understand in the first place (“ _Are you insane? You’ll earn like_ half _of what you’re making right now!” “Is Sora very upset? Roxas, you know how he’ll take this!” “I mean, if you’re looking for a different job… but with K.H. Industries? Seriously? Aren’t they kinda shady?”_ ). So no, he hasn’t shared much with them. He didn’t even speak to them during the first four weeks at his new job until Riku pretty much kicked his door in and demanded he’d fix the mess he’d gotten himself into (“ _I don’t care for your moping Roxas, you’ll sit down with Sora and Ven right now and figure this out_ ”).

Roxas had refused at first. He had grudgingly attended the family dinners Riku or Ven had dragged him to, but he’d avoided the topic of work like the plague and stubbornly pretended he couldn’t see the hurt in Sora’s eyes. After his first disastrous team meeting and the evening with Axel and Xion down at the beach, he spent the whole Saturday thinking, mostly about the things he usually avoided thinking about.

On Sunday, he surprised a bleary-eyed Sora with breakfast bagels.

He’s not sure whether he explained himself well that morning in Sora’s kitchen, sitting in the window overlooking the small garden with a patch of grass that Riku pretended to mow for two hours in order to give them space. But Sora listened to him, really _listened_ , like he hadn’t done in years, and he finally understood why succeeding without him or Ven _mattered_ to Roxas.

Roxas hasn’t apologised. Not because he isn’t sorry for hurting his family, but because he’s afraid of bringing the subject up at all. He takes comfort in the tentative peace between them, in the fact that he can finally interact with his brothers again without the feeling of guilt overshadowing their every interaction. He doesn’t want to shatter that.

“Yeah,” he says, and looks at Pence, kind and patient and understanding Pence, “I know I haven’t.”

He doesn’t know if Pence can hear the unspoken _I’m sorry_ , but Pence’s smile is warm and genuine.

“Was it what you were looking for?” he asks, and reaches for another fry.

Roxas thinks about that question for a moment. He thinks about Saïx and Xemnas, about how looking at them still makes his blood boil with suppressed anger. But he also thinks about the feeling of success whenever Saïx doesn’t find anything to criticise about his work, about the long days spent working with his team, about Xion’s quiet support and about Axel, grinning at him from behind his monitor, Axel’s hand in his hair and his futile attempts to ruffle Roxas’s carefully styled spikes, Axel’s low voice whispering nonsense into Roxas’ ear…

“Not really,” he says, “But I think I might have found something even better.”


	4. Taking the Leap

There’s no communication from Roxas over the next days and Axel hears Naminé chuckle when he checks his phone every five minutes, only to find that there’s no new text waiting for him.

On Thursday though, his phone chimes at six thirty in the morning, just as Axel is tugging off his shirt to hit the shower, and when he squints at the screen through still-bleary eyes there’s a text from Roxas saying _What were the last words of Arthur Conan Doyle?_

Axel blinks slowly. He tries, but his brain doesn’t come up with anything other than _What? Why?_ , so this is what he writes back.

_Hurry!_ is the answer he gets thirty seconds later. _We only have an hour left and Wi-Fi is beyond shitty down here._

Axel isn’t quite sure where _down here_ is exactly, but if they’ve lost their ability to google these Mystery Tours are apparently more hard-core than he originally gave them credit for.

_Isn’t this technically cheating?_ he replies, to which Roxas sends a row of rude emojis, followed by a charming _Help me out already, jackass!_

Axel grins and spends three minutes browsing the internet before he types, _Wikipedia says they were addressed to his wife and he said “You’re wonderful”._

There is no reply from Roxas over the next two hours. Axel is already on his second cup of coffee at work when his phone finally chimes. It’s a picture of Roxas, dirt on his cheeks, his hair a dusty mess, but his grin proud and happy. He’s holding a box which seems to contain several scrolls of parchment sealed with red wax. His three friends are in the picture too: the tall blond guy is apparently holding the phone while the other two are framing Roxas, hands over their heads and forming heart shapes with their fingers.

_You’re a life-saver_ the next message adds. _You were the only one who got back to us in time_.

_Great_ , Axel replies, _So what did we win?_

_The first clues to where Dr. Moriarty is keeping John Watson hostage. We’re going to check Baker Street next._

_Wait, are you in fucking London?_ Axel replies. Roxas replies with a selfie of him smiling brightly at a subway sign that reads _Piccadilly Circus_. There’s still a smudge of dirt on his left cheek and a tear in the sleeve of his green shirt, and Axel thinks he’s never looked more beautiful.

_Nice. Have fun. Save all the detectives and bring me a souvenir_ Axel types, fully resigned to this being the last communication while Roxas is busy treasure hunting.

However and much to his surprise, Roxas continues to share a number of texts and pictures over the next days: the view of the riverside up from London Eye, an old map of the city before the Great Fire of 1666, Roxas in front of Aldgate Church, an old grey-and-white-bricked building among brightly lit office buildings much like the one Axel and Roxas work in, where they have to investigate the murders of Jack the Ripper, and Axel’s secret favourite: Roxas in St. James’s Park with a squirrel on his knee that is inspecting his fingers while Roxas smiles at the tiny creature, completely enchanted. Roxas even asks for Axel’s opinion on two or three of the riddles, and it’s weirdly fun trying to figure out the questions that lead the Mystery Gang, as Axel secretly calls them, to both popular and strange locations in London.

The best time, however, is when he’s lying in bed way too late at night, two hours’ time difference between himself and Roxas, who’s settling in for sleep also, and they exchange random texts about their day. Roxas usually details the daily results of their treasure hunt and Axel keeps him entertained with anecdotes from the office, happy to sacrifice a good night’s sleep for this. _We only have tomorrow to get everything done_ , Roxas writes on Wednesday, when the red numbers of Axel’s alarm clock have just struck two in the morning. _Do you think we’ll make it?_

_Sure thing_ , Axel replies instantly, _You already figured out the location of the evil lair. Only thing left to do is confront the fucker, free the detectives and claim your prize._

_Yeah, but who knows? This is one of their toughest tours, and they’re known for throwing in a twist or two._

Axel smiles, already typing another _Don’t worry_ -message, when Roxas adds, _But it’ll be nice to be back, I guess. London’s awesome, but kinda exhausting. And I miss you._

Axel is staring at the message for a long while, pretty sure he’s hallucinating those last four words. He’s just about to consider pinching himself when another fast-paced series of texts lights up his screen.

_Uhm._

_Okay, that was awkward._

_What I meant was…_

_You know what, it’s late and I’m going to sleep. Good night._

There’s a weird feeling somewhere between Axel’s stomach and his chest, a warm sensation spreading slowly through his body, and his grin is so wide it actually hurts when he replies, _You know, missing me is really nothing to be ashamed of? I mean I’m GREAT. I’d miss me too._

The reply is instantaneous, _Whatever. I have a villain to catch tomorrow. Good night._

Axel chuckles, and types quickly _, If we’re being honest: I might miss you too. The office feels fucking empty and Saïx is picking on me now. Which sucks. So there, see? It’s not that hard to admit._

There’s no reply for a full minute, and when the three dots appear, Axel briefly holds his breath, though he doesn’t have to wait for long for the reply, _Yeah, GOOD NIGHT Axel!_

Axel carelessly lets his phone fall down next to his alarm clock and turns around to hide his grin in his pillow. He’s knows it’s not really that much of an admission, that he might be reading way too much into this. But this is Roxas, and this feels like a huge step forward.

He’s not getting any sleep that night. 

* * *

Xion comes back at the end of August, just when the heat of summer is starting to fade into the cooler days of autumn. She looks tired and pale, the way people look when they have slaved away at their desks for a prolonged period of time, but she laughs happily when Axel pulls her into a tight embrace and makes her promise to “never leave us again!” Roxas is pretty sure she couldn’t even if she wanted to – Naminé has left quite suddenly three weeks ago and he and Axel are drowning in work, barely managing to meet any deadlines despite pulling extra hours. Even Saïx looks relieved when he greets Xion briefly, which isn’t an emotion Roxas remembers having formerly seen on the other man’s face. But then again, the only expression he does remember seeing is mild annoyance, mostly directed at Roxas.

“So, you have your degree and everything?” Axel asks, tapping the tip of his pencil against the little solar-powered corgi figurine Roxas brought him from London, which is wagging its tail excitedly.

“Oh, no, not quite yet,” Xion replies. She turns over a colourful seashell Roxas has brought her from the beach before she spots her own little corgi and beams at him in a silent thank-you. “I still have to defend my thesis next week, but Saïx called and wanted to know if I could start early. And well, considering the fact that I now make twice as much as I did during the internship…”

“Yeah, first real pay check is awesome,” Axel agrees. “And we need you, don’t we Rox? It’s been a nightmare without you and speaking of nightmares, Xehanort has called three times last week and rambled off for hours and we can’t figure out what he fucking _wants_ from us…”

Roxas watches Axel with a small smile as he summarises the last weeks for Xion, waving his arms widely to illustrate his points and rolling his eyes dramatically.

Things have been… different since Roxas is back from London. He isn’t quite sure how to pinpoint _what_ exactly has changed, but he knows something has. They spend more time with each other after work now – when before, they hung out maybe once or twice a week, now the majority of his workdays end either at the beach or at Axel’s apartment, eating take-out and playing video games. They still don’t really see each other during weekends, but they text, which is certainly new.

Roxas is still trying to supress the mortifying memory of that last night in London, when, in a state of sleepiness and lack of better judgement, he admitted _missing_ Axel. He spent the last day in London silently being angry at himself, because honestly, how lame and creepy was that?

It wasn’t a lie though. He thought about Axel alarmingly often during his time in London, snapping pictures of things that reminded him of the red-head or imagining what Axel would have to say about this or that. His friends _all_ made fun of him for being glued to his phone, in varying degrees of annoyingness (ranked: Olette – Pence – Hayner, by the way).

Another thing that’s new and distinctly annoying is the way that Axel seems to have forgotten their previous rules about physical boundaries. These days, he seems to be always touching Roxas – a hand in his hair, an elbow to his ribs, an arm across his shoulder. Roxas knows he could stop it with one word, but the thing is: he _likes_ being touched by Axel, likes to rest against the lithe body which always seems to be comfortingly warm, even in the summer time when Roxas shouldn’t like touching _anyone_ , because most of the time he’s sweaty and gross and hating Xemnas for not getting office rooms with proper air conditioning.

But with Axel, he doesn’t mind.

“… and then Demyx told him to go fuck himself, and I don’t know how he did it, but Zexion managed to produce the biggest paper jam in office history, which well, sucked, but it was entertaining to watch, right, Rox?”

Roxas head snaps up at hearing his name, and when he sees Axel grinning at him, wide and soft and teasing, and Roxas _feels_ all of his body react to that, and _fuck_ , he knows exactly what this is.

He just doesn’t like it, because being in love with his hot co-worker who has a rule against dating at the office is definitely _not_ his dream scenario.

But well.

It’s not like he can do much about it now.

* * *

It’s a beautiful morning in early September when Axel’s office line rings before he’s even had the chance to unzip his jacket.

There’s a croaky, “Hey” coming from the speaker, and it actually takes Axel a moment to recognize the voice.

“Hey Rox,” he greets back, and throws his jacket over the back of his chair, “You don’t sound so hot.”

“I don’t _feel_ too hot either,” the scratchy voice says. A cough interrupts Roxas, and it’s actually a bit painful to listen to. “Just got back from the doctor. Have to stay in bed all week.”

“Oh,” Axel says, “Okay. Do you need me to tell Demyx?”

“No, I already called him.” Axel hears the sound of a nose being blown noisily. “Just wanted to let you guys know as well.”

“Okay,” Axel says, and there’s a weird, warm feeling spreading through his chest when he thinks about that and the fact that Roxas called him and not Xion, who’s sitting on her desk and watching him intently, a questioning look in her eyes. ‘Sick’ Axel mouths at her, and points at Roxas’ desk. She nods.

“So what’s the doc’s verdict?” Axel asks. “Sounds like a cold.”

“The flu, apparently,” Roxas says, and lets out an impressive salve of sneezes. Axel counts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, before Roxas groans and blows his nose again. “Or the plague,” he adds, once he’s able to speak again. “It’s hard to tell.”

“You sound gross, man,” Axel says good-naturedly. He hesitates, because maybe this is crossing a line, but honestly, he has no idea where these lines are anymore anyway. “Listen… do you need anything?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ll just take some painkillers and sleep until Sunday.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am. I’ll force my family to bring me something to eat but honestly, food doesn’t sound that appealing right now.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am. Try not to miss too much.”

“Impossible,” Axel says with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m carving your portrait into my desk with my H4 pencil as we speak. It will keep me company until you return. Xion already put Rex on your chair. He’ll fill in for you, but we both know he’ll never replace the original.”

Xion looks at him in confusion, then at the plant sitting innocently on Axel’s desk, and then slowly shakes her head. “Jackass,” Roxas says, and his voice is scratchy and soft and, okay, maybe this is doing something to Axel’s stomach.

Maybe.

* * *

Axel keeps texting him throughout the week.

Not long messages, just what is clearly a daily check-up on Roxas.

_“Feel any better yet?”_

_“Your portrait’s finished. Zexion wept when he saw it, which means it’s either more beautiful or much more hideous than your actual face.”_

_“I think Xion overwatered the plants. Rex looks like shit. Or perhaps he’s just missing his namesake.”_

Roxas thinks it’s oddly endearing.

Thursday morning – well, noon, really – greets him with a welcomed lack of headache and the message _“So, family’s feeding you alright?”_

Roxas smiles through his drowsiness and reaches for his phone, not yet fully awake when he types _“Only healthy stuff though. Zero sugar. It’s a nightmare.”_

Axel replies instantly, _“Might bring about a change in your eating habits though.”_

Roxas replies with a gif of someone – perhaps a wrestler? – yelling _“Can’t change won’t change”_ before he snuggles back into his pillow, feeling his smile against the soft fabric as he slowly drifts back to sleep.

* * *

This is a normal thing, Axel tells himself.

Completely normal. Not weird.

Okay, maybe a little weird.

But not, like, full-on weird. Definitely not.

His co-worker is ill and has expressed a craving for something sweet. A need his family apparently won’t cater to. And Axel, he’s just… dropping something off. Not even _visiting_ , strictly speaking, because that would be intrusive. Just dropping something off.

He’ll ring the doorbell, shove everything in Roxas’ hands, say something lame about his recovery and the imaginary portrait of him on his desk, and then go home.

Like a normal person.

He’s staring at the two shopping bags in his hands, almost spilling over with tubs of ice-cream and Roxas’ favourite gummy bears and chocolate bars and a selection of herbal tea and some painkillers and throat drops, just in case, and the hot-water bag the nice lady at the pharmacy talked him into getting.

_Fuck_.

He is so, so screwed.

* * *

He knows Roxas’ address from that one time he was driving him home after a late team meeting weeks ago, on the rare occasion when he took his barely functional car to work. He dropped Roxas off in front of the apartment building – red and yellow bricks, lots of greenery – and Roxas even pointed out his balcony on the second floor and invited Axel up for a drink.

Axel was so tempted to take that offer, but he had an early train to catch in the morning, so he declined. Which he regretted. For like, a week.

Hypothetically though, he thinks when he climbs up the stairs to the front door, he can deduce from that incident that Roxas feels okay with Axel knowing where he lives, and okay with the possibility of Axel entering his flat.

Hypothetically.

He scans the names next to the doorbells when a young woman opens the front door, trying to hold it open while simultaneously pushing her kid’s trolley through. Axel helps her out and then finds himself inside the building, door falling shut behind him.

This is too weird. He can’t show up unannounced. That’s not what normal people do. Not since phones exist.

He gets his phone out and types a quick message to Roxas: _“Hey, I wanted to bring you something. Mind if I drop by?”_

There’s no response.

_“It’s not work-related. I promise.”_

Hm. He wanted that to sound reassuring, but now it looks creepy.

Still nothing.

He tries calling next. It goes straight to voicemail.

_Fuck_.

He’s standing in the foyer like a big idiot, an old lady has just walked by him and shot him a distrustful look, and he knows inside his bags, the ice-cream’s probably starting to melt.

_Fuck it._

He takes the stairs up to the second floor. There are only four doors on each side of the corridor, and Roxas’ is thankfully the second one he walks by.

He rings the doorbell, acutely aware of the white and black checked doormat, the font on the sign that says “R. Hikaru” and the way his stomach feels like something heavy is twisting inside.

The door opens.

Axel blinks in surprise.

He has been prepared for a number of scenarios: Roxas not answering the door. Roxas telling him to go away. Roxas opening the door and telling him to go away. Roxas opening the door and smiling like he’s glad to see Axel (that one has been a favourite he’s been too afraid to imagine in greater detail). But none of these featured Roxas looking like he just got back from a fucking job interview, which is precisely how he would describe the vision that greets him right now.

The Roxas in front of him doesn’t even look sick. He’s wearing a white shirt and grey pants, both freshly ironed and crisp looking. Axel hasn’t seen clothes like this on Roxas since his first week at the office, after he caught on that nobody cared about what anyone was wearing to work. His hair is carefully styled – did he get a haircut since Axel has seen him last? – and weirdest of all, he’s blinking at Axel like he’s never seen him before and offers a tentative but mostly neutral “Yes?”

It takes Axel just a second to recover from his surprise and he covers it up with a grin and leans against the doorframe, carefully hiding his bags behind his crossed legs. “For a guy who sounded close to death three days ago, you look pretty chipper,” he says.

Roxas blinks at him for a second before something apparently clicks and he smiles at Axel, bright and understanding, “Ah, I’m sorry, this is a misunderstanding. I take it you’re here to visit Roxas?”

Axel frowns at the other man, displeased with not catching up to whatever joke this is. “Ha ha, very funny, Roxas.”

“It will be in a second,” Roxas promises and extends his hand, grinning in obvious amusement. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ventus, Roxas’ brother. Well, twin brother. Obviously.”

Axel is staring at him. His brain has a hard time catching up to this piece of information, because the man in front of him looks _exactly_ like Roxas, but – the clothes, the hair, and the smile, unguarded and friendly and yet more distant than the way Roxas looks at him.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Axel offers weakly, and Ventus laughs. “Yeah, we get that a lot. Are you a friend from work?”

“I’m…” Axel says, actually unsure as to how to answer this. “I mean… yes. We’re office mates. I’m Axel.”

He shakes Ventus’ hand, and there is something like recognition in the way Ventus’ smile deepens.

“Please come in, Axel,” he says, steps away from the door and heads back into the apartment. Axel follows, careful to grab his bags before he shuts the door behind them. He doesn’t know what to concentrate on – the way Ventus is viewing him with unveiled interest, or the apartment around him, which offers the glimpse into Roxas’ private life Axel has been dying to catch.

It’s big and modern and tasteful and clean. Those are the first words that come to mind. The apartment fits Roxas usual colour palette – lots of dark wood, grey surfaces, carpets and wallpapers in white, green and blue. The small space behind the door gives way into an open space, carefully arranged to separate the kitchen from the living room without any walls. There are two more doors leading to other rooms, both closed. One of the walls is entirely occupied with a gigantic bookcase. Most of the light comes from the big glass doors opening up to the balcony, which is occupied by at least twenty potted plants of various shapes and sizes.

_Figures._

“So, you said you share an office with Roxas?” a voice next to him asks. He tears his attention away from the apartment and back to Ventus, who’s moved behind the kitchen counter. There’s a long row of canned food – mostly soups, by the look of it – which Ventus is trying to store in a cupboard already threatening to overspill its contents. There’s fresh fruit, oranges, apples and lemons, arranged in a large blue bowl, and a colourful arrangement of tea that puts the collection in Axel’s bags to shame.

_Guess his family really_ is _taking good care of him._

“I…” Axel tries to remember the question. “Yes.” He looks at Ventus and shakes his head. “Sorry. This is a bit spooky.” Ventus grins, “I can imagine. I take it Roxas hasn’t mentioned me?”

There’s an edge to the question Axel can’t identify, so he answers truthfully, “He mentioned his brothers. He neglected to mention the twin-thing.”

Ventus nods and sighs. “Of course he has.” He hesitates briefly, but before he can add anything he is interrupted by loud voices coming from one of the doors. Ventus rolls his eyes and says, “Speaking of brothers…” before the door bangs open and Roxas walks out, scowling and growling at someone behind him.

“I’m not _dying_ , Sora, I can do my own fucking laundry-“ Roxas says, before he turns around and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Axel.

His eyes grow wide in surprise, and Axel can’t stop the grin from spreading over his face because the man in front of him is undeniably _his_ Roxas. His hair is a mess – it’s flat on one side and sticking out in all directions on the other side, but it looks soft without its usual amount of styling product, and Axel can feel his fingers twitch with the wish to reach out. He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt with a faded band logo, both looking soft and worn. He looks pale and tired, and he’s wearing a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, which, _okay_ , is new. And kinda nice.

It’s less nice when the eyes behind the glasses narrow into accusing slits and Roxas crosses his arms in front of his chest, initial surprise turning into something like confused suspicion. “What are _you_ doing here?” he asks. His voice sounds sore and a little deeper than usual, and though it sounds more confused than displeased, Axel feels the grin on his lips fade.

“What is _who_ doing here?” a different voice says, and Axel only now notices the man behind Roxas, who’s looking at Axel with intense interest and a bright smile. He’s taller than the other two, though not by much, and his hair is a warm shade of brown. But his eyes are the same as Roxas’ and Ventus’, blue and wide and warm, and Axel can see enough of the family resemblance to guess who’s standing in front of him, even if he didn’t recognise him from his wedding photo.

“Axel, this is Sora, Sora, this is Axel, Roxas’ colleague,” Ventus says when neither Roxas nor Axel make the effort to introduce anyone. “He’s come by to check on you, Roxas.”

Roxas’ expression remains unchanged, but Sora’s smile grows impossibly wide, and in an instant, he’s across the room, shaking Axel’s hand. “Axel, of course,” he says warmly. “Nice to meet you.”

Axel feels slightly overwhelmed by the turn of events. He was expecting to be yelled at by Roxas for the intrusion of his privacy. He was not expecting to meet Roxas’ family, who, as far as he recalls, Roxas still has issues with.

“Uhm…” he says, trying to come up with a socially acceptable reply. “Yeah. Sure. Likewise.” Sora’s smile deepens, revealing two dimples in his cheeks, and Axel feels something between strangely flattered and vaguely uncomfortable at the other man’s attention.

He turns to Roxas, who hasn’t moved away from the bathroom door, tugging at the seam of his ratty shirt and avoiding Axel’s gaze. “You could have called,” he murmurs.

“I did,” Axel says, acutely aware of the two pairs of eyes following their exchange. “I also texted you. You didn’t reply.”

Roxas looks up, bewildered, than reaches down to tug his phone out of his back pocket. He frowns and says, “Forgot to charge it.” He looks at Axel again, and this time, the expression on his face is kinder when he adds, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Axel says, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he holds up his bags and offers, “I brought you snacks?”

Roxas is beside him in an instant, grabs the bag and begins to rummage through it. “Oh _yes_ ,” he says, and he looks at Axel and okay, no, Axel can definitely see the family resemblance now that Roxas too smiles at him. “You are a _lifesaver_.”

“Hey!” Sora protests, sounding affronted. “We got you something to eat as well.” He points at the row of canned food that Ventus has given up on trying to store in the cupboard.

“ _You_ ,” Roxas says, reaching into Axel’s bags, a happy smile on his face as he pulls out all of his favourite sweets, “you got me soup and lemons and _raw ginger_ , which is disgusting. _Axel_ …” he pulls out a tub with an elated grin. “got me _ice-cream_.”

While Sora loudly voices his protest –“I spent thirty minutes on curaga.com and raw ginger is awesome for colds!” – Ven grins at Axel and says, “We conceit defeat.”

“Well, I don’t,” Sora huffs while Roxas walks past him to the fridge, five tubs of ice-cream in his arms (okay, maybe Axel went a little overboard there). When Roxas doesn’t respond, Sora rolls his eyes and spins around to face Axel.

“Soooooo Axel,” he drawls and Axel has the odd and not precisely pleasant experience of two pairs of eyes much like Roxas’ staring at him in unabashed curiosity, “Roxas never tells us anything about work or his friends there. Do you work on a project together, or…?”

Before Axel can reply anything, Roxas has marched in front of him, a tub of ice cream in his right and a large spoon in his left hand, which he uses to point accusingly at Sora. “No,” he says, “You do not get to interrogate my friends just because I am ill and weak.”

Sora rolls his eyes again, and Ven says, his voice placating, “We’re just having a normal conversation, Rox.”

“Yeah, easy, tiger,” Axel says and shifts his weight onto his left leg so that he can bump his hip against Roxas ever so lightly. He doesn’t pull back though, and neither does Roxas. “Us two and Xion, our third colleague, currently work on a rebranding project for the company. Which I’m obviously not going to tell the competition about,” he adds, and winks and prays to all divine powers that he’s not stabbing right into a nest of complicated family relations.

To his relief, Sora laughs good-naturedly and braces both hands on the kitchen counter to lean forward. “Trust me, I’ve seen your marketing these last years.” He grins, wide and honest and maybe there’s a little bit of well-meant competition in the twinkle in his eyes. “You’re gonna need a good rebranding.”

Axel grins back at him and then remembers a way to steer the conversation away from business, which still feels like a balance act, even with how easy it seems to talk to Sora about it. “Uhm, by the way,” Axel says, his fingers carding through his hair, his eyes not quite meeting Sora’s because this is kinda personal, right? “Belated congrats on your wedding?”

Sora honest to god _beams_ at him, and Axel feels once more taken aback. He doesn’t know what it fucking _is_ about Sora, but he can’t help feeling drawn to the genuine happiness shining in his eyes. “Oh, Roxas mentioned that? Thank you! It was freaking a-ma-zing.” He grins. “I tried to bully Roxas into giving the best man speech, but he refused.”

“Like, eighty percent of the people there didn’t even knew who we were,” Roxas grumbles, “Why would it matter to them if it’s Ven or me talking?”

Sora cocks his head to the side, “Who cares about them? You matter to _me_.” He looks at Roxas with the kindest expression Axel has ever seen on a human being and fuck, Axel would probably kill for this man. Figuratively only, but _still_. He kinda hates it.

And just like that, Roxas goes rigid next to Axel. Axel can see, can feel the way his body tenses for a moment, and he reaches out without thinking, his hand on Roxas’ shoulder in an instant. When he looks up, he sees that Sora didn’t even notice Roxas’ reaction: he’s busy thumbing through his phone, frowning at something on the screen.

Ventus, though, is watching them, and when his gaze meets Axel’s, he smiles. “It’s a relief to know Roxas has a friend at work,” he says, “He has a habit of finding trouble, and it’s good to know that you’re watching out for him.”

“Ugh, I’m right here, Ven,” Roxas says and waves his spoon for emphasis. “Cut it with the fake big brother act, okay?”

“Wait, I always thought you _were_ the youngest brother,” Axel says.

“He _is_ ,” Ventus grins. “He’s twelve minutes and thirteen seconds younger.”

“Which I will never be allowed to forget,” Roxas grumbles. “Like it makes any difference.” He looks up at Axel and grimaces, and Axel uses the opportunity to casually, _casually_ drop his hand from Roxas’ shoulder. “I also got held back a year in fifth grade because I was ill a lot. That made it worse.”

“And given your track record with that,” Ventus says, and looks pointedly at the assortment of tea bags in front of him, “I think I’m entitled to the ‘big brother act’.” Axel didn’t know that people still used air quotes, but he would readily admit it looks adorable on Ventus.

“I think we need to go,” Sora announces, his tone apologetic but his gaze still on his phone, tapping away. “Riku’s picking us up in five.” He spins around and grabs Axel’s hand to shake it warmly. “It was nice to meet you, Axel,” Sora says, and though it’s just a phrase he’s heard hundreds of time, somehow, Axel is convinced Sora means every word of it. “Eat the ginger, or I’ll tell mom,” he says to Roxas, who flips him the middle finger but let’s himself be hugged by both of his brothers.

“See ya, Axel,” Ventus calls and waves before the door falls shut behind him. Which leaves Roxas and Axel in a kitchen that suddenly feels a lot smaller than before. And very quiet.

“So,” Roxas says. He’s not looking at Axel again, instead, he’s suddenly combing through his hair with his fingers, making the mess not better but somewhat even on both sides.

“So,” Axel parrots, “These are your brothers.”

“Yup,” Roxas says. He sighs, then leans forward and pinches Axel’s cheek violently. When Axel protests loudly (“What the _fuck_ , Roxas!”), he says in way of explanation, “You have a really stupid look on your face.”

“I don’t…”

“Don’t worry,” Roxas interrupts him. He slides onto the kitchen counter to sit cross-legged in front of Axel, who notices that this way they’re of almost equal height. Roxas pops the lid off his ice cream tub. “I get it. Sora has that effect on people.”

“Yeah, he’s…” Axel says, and trails off when he realises he doesn’t quite know how to describe Sora Hikaru. He shakes his head and notices the way Roxas is observing him, a spoonful of ice cream already in his mouth.

“Okay, anyway. That’s not why I’m here,” Axel says and leans forward, a little closer to Roxas, “I wanted to know: how are _you_?”

Roxas blinks and carefully licks his spoon clean before he answers, “Fine, I think. Almost. Better, anyway. The fever’s gone. Guess I’ll be back at work on Monday.”

“Good,” Axel says, “Rex and Xion are lonely without you.”

“Of course they are,” Roxas replies around a mouthful of ice cream. “I mean, who else do they have to keep them company?”

Axel elbows him good-naturedly, silently relieved to have survived the “meet-the-family”-bomb without setting it off. He’s awesome. He was right. Nothing about this is weird.

But then Roxas looks down at the ice-cream tub, his thumb tracing the logo of the local manufacturer. “I thought they only sold this down at the beach,” he says.

“They do,” Axel replies truthfully before he can stop himself. Or kick himself, which is what he wants to do when Roxas looks from him to the ice-cream back to him, his gaze confused, probably because he’s figuring out how ridiculously long the drive from the office to the beach and back to Roxas’ apartment is, and okay, Axel has sort of accepted that he’s maybe a bit pathetic and a lot of in love, but this is not the time when he wants Roxas to realise either of these things.

So he does the only thing he can do: he stands up abruptly and says: “I really should go.”

He’s already taken one step towards the door when Roxas says, “Wait!” Axel looks down to find Roxas’ fingers tangled in the hem of his coat, holding him back with surprising force. “I mean,” he says, releasing his hold on Axel reluctantly. “You just got here, and you brought me all this stuff, and I kinda haven’t talked to anyone _sane_ all week, and I’m pretty sure I’m not contagious anymore, so...”

He grins and points at the row of canned food on his counter, “The least I can do is offer you dinner.”

* * *

They eat rice soup and chicken broth with crackers and ice-cream and watch shitty reality television on Roxas’ couch while Axel fills him in on what he has missed at work (not much, though Larxene and Marluxia are apparently an item now and Demyx’ band has signed with some shady label and Demyx won’t shut up about it). Roxas falls asleep halfway through commercials, curled in on himself like a kitten and snoring loudly through his clogged nose.

Axel makes sure to tuck him underneath two extra blankets and to put his freshly charged phone next to his head and a glass of water on the table before he leaves.

* * *

Roxas has made a list.

He never trusted flower plucking or horoscopes or whatever other people consult to make sense of their lives, but lists are good. Lists are reasonable, and reliable.

They’ll help him figure it out.

As of now, the list has six items: three arguments and three counter-arguments.

It reads:

  1. _I’m 85,5% sure Axel is flirting with me. Like, all the time._



This is an average number, because on some days Roxas is absolutely certain and on other days he thinks it’s probably just wishful thinking.

Either way, the counter-argument reads: _Axel flirts with everyone_ and _he has a stupid rule against dating co-workers._

This is a really good counter-argument, and therefore, one Roxas hates.

  1. _Axel touches me. Like, a lot._



Roxas likes to dwell on this point for a moment as he remembers Axel’s warm skin against his, fingers lingering on Roxas’ when he handed him his coffee mug this morning. Unfortunately, reality comes crashing back in the form of the counter-argument: _Axel touches everyone. That’s hardly anything special._

Roxas can’t deny that either, so he turns to the third and arguably most complicated item on the list:

  1. _Co-workers who aren’t interested in dating and/or fucking you don’t walk twenty minutes down to the beach and then drive twenty-five minutes to your apartment just to get you your favourite ice-cream. They just don’t._



This item is newer than the others, and it’s a good one. It’s the reason Roxas has started this list to begin with.

The note on the other side says: _But he’s Axel and he’s weird that way?_

The question mark is what continues to give Roxas hope. He has studied the list all morning, and he feels personally upset by the fact that it hasn’t helped him reach a conclusion yet.

What the list doesn’t even take into account is the way Roxas’ stomach flutters when Axel draws him into that one-armed-side-hug that has become such a regular occurrence. Or the fact that he makes sure there’s a cup of freshly brewed coffee already waiting on the other man’s desk when Axel’s running late again. Or the tingling sensation when Axel stands behind his desk to show him something on the company’s calendar, laughing in his ear, chin almost resting on Roxas’ shoulder and being so, _so_ close.

Maybe he should start another list.

“You know,” a voice behind him says, and Roxas lets out an embarrassingly high squeak. “You could always just ask him out.”

Roxas slams his notepad shut and looks over to Xion, who’s holding a mug to her lips and smiles at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, with as much dignity as a man can muster with two arms on a closed notebook to protect it from intrusive stares.

“Hmm,” Xion replies, an amused smile on her lips. “In that case, I should perhaps tell you that you’ve been staring at Axel’s chair for the last ten minutes. And I heard several sighs.”

Roxas groans and lets his body fall forward, his forehead hitting the notepad with a low ‘thud’. It’s an uncomfortable position, which feels fitting.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, his voice muffled against the paper.

“Not really,” Xion says. “Not when Axel’s around.”

Which he hasn’t been today, because he’s stuck in a meeting across town.

_That’s reassuring._

Roxas considers his pride for a moment, decides it’s not worth anything anyway and asks, his face still resting on his notepad, “Do you think he likes me?”

“Yes,” Xion says. There’s no doubt or hesitation in her voice, and that actually makes Roxas sit up to stare at her.

“ _Likes me_ likes me?” Roxas asks, because apparently, he’s five-years old and an insecure mess.

Xion sighs. “Ask him out,” she says and walks over to her desk. “Trust me on this.”

Roxas makes a doubtful sound and opens his bottom drawer to toss his notepad inside. Better to hide any incriminating evidence before Axel is back, because he’s not convinced Xion is right. He knows she’s brilliant like, 99% of the time. But this is Axel and him, and it’s wonderful and complicated and weird, and Roxas feels like he isn’t ready to leave the comfortable zone they’re in and take the risk of ruining everything.

Not yet anyway.

* * *

The rainy days of September give way to the golden October sunshine and the days are getting shorter. Axel notices because everyone at the office is working additional hours, and most days he only sees sunlight filtered through the office windows.

They finally deciphered Xehanort’s ramblings (mostly thanks to Xion’s seemingly inexhaustible patience) and figured out that what he actually wants is to hand them a big project. Which, unfortunately, involves a lot of work.

For them.

It’s almost five in the afternoon when Saïx storms into the office. None of them even look up from their work, so used are they by now to this. Knowing that their management is supposed to meet at Xehanort’s company tomorrow, Axel is kinda surprised to see that Saïx is still here.

“Where is the report on shipments and storage?” Saïx asks. Roxas shrugs, Xion frowns, and Axel tries desperately to remember what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Xehanort was expecting it today, along with the other reports,” he says, and Axel almost rolls his eyes at the way Saïx’ voice overemphasises the first and last syllables of the other man’s name reverently. If there is one person Saïx admires more than Xemnas, it’s Xehanort. Axel doesn’t know _why_ , but hey – there’s a lot of things he doesn’t understand. Like for example why the fuck he hasn’t managed to ask Roxas out for coffee yet.

_Because you’re afraid of losing him_ , a treacherously honest voice inside his head replies. _Because you’re afraid this’ll become weird, when it’s the best thing you ever had._

“The reports on shipment and storage?” Xion repeats. She has pulled out the agenda they made at their last meeting and is scanning the items on it. “But that isn’t due until next Wednesday.”

Saïx’ expression falters for a just a second before he has himself under control again. “Well, Xehanort specifically asked for it,” he says. “You have all the relevant data, correct?”

“Well, we made some inquires and received a couple of options,” Axel says, “But…”

“Great,” Saïx cuts him off. “I’ll send you the specific requests Xehanort forwarded. I’ll expect you to send it on to him tonight. Xemnas and I leave in half an hour, and when we meet with him tomorrow I expect this to be in all of our inboxes.”

He’s out of the door before either of them has the chance to get a word in. Axel stares after him in silent bewilderment, wondering how the flying fuck they are supposed to pull this off. A deep, frustrated groan coming from the other corner interrupts his thoughts, and he stares in surprise at Xion, who is still growling at her monitor, making a noise Axel has never heard from her before.

“My thoughts exactly,” Roxas says. Axel peers over the edges of their monitors to see that Roxas looks both pissed and slightly impressed with Xion’s audible act of defiance. “I mean… _how_?”

“Guess we’ll be here all night,” Axel sighs and rubs his eyes. He’s already tired, he hasn’t had time to hang out with Roxas or Xion at all this week, he missed Kairi’s calls twice and he really doesn’t like this job enough for it to overtake what little of a social life he has. “Unless one of you two wants to tell him to go fuck himself?”

Roxas looks like he’s seriously considering it but Xion merely snorts, “Yeah, I’d like to still have a job tomorrow, thanks.” She sighs, “Send me the emails you have and I’ll get started on a first dossier.”

So while their colleagues leave one after the other, most of them with a comment that either expresses pity or a distinct sense of Schadenfreude, the three of them work on. Outside, the sky grows even darker, and soon the sound of raindrops tapping against their windows accompanies the sounds of furious tapping and frustrated sighs.

The conversation between the three of them grows thinner the more the clock ticks on, and Axel can feel his eyelids grow heavy. They force Xion to go home after she falls asleep leaning on the coffee machine shortly before midnight. Her protest is only minimal, which tells Axel something about how exhausted she must be, and he’s glad when he watches her climb into the cab Roxas called for her from their window.

“Guess it’s just you and me, huh?” he says and turns around to Roxas next to him, still looking outside into the pouring rain. The light from the street lamp outside paints a strange glow on his face. He looks just as tired as Axel is feeling.

“You’ll type, I’ll proofread?” Roxas offers, and Axel nods.

They work in companiable silence for a while, but Axel can feel himself getting more restless with every minute while he types and sends every finished page on to Roxas to maximize their speed. His left knee starts twitching up and down, something he only notices when Roxas kicks him under the desk and tiredly says, “Don’t. It’s distracting.”

Axel grits his teeth and keeps typing. He hates this, he hates being stuck here with no opportunity to let his mind wander or distract himself. He wants to leave this for the next morning, he wants to talk with Roxas about something fun, even when they’re both tired and want to go home. He wants…

Finally, he sends on the last page.

“Okay, please tell me we’re done with this,” Roxas yawns. Axel looks at the clock above their door and realises with a start that it is past two in the morning.

“Tell you what,” he says, and stands up, feeling the muscles in his lower back scream in protest, “Screw it. We’ll leave it at that. I’ll get us one final coffee, you read over the report once more and I’ll check the last figures and then we’ll just send it on.”

Roxas nods and yawns again, but he pulls the most recent print out towards him, apparently just as tired of looking at a screen as Axel is.

There’s something eerie about an empty office complex late at night, Axel thinks, something weird in the way the coffee machine is surprisingly loud in the silence of the empty rooms. Axel walks around while their coffee brews to switch off a few lights and monitors because he hopes the movement will wake him up, and green policy and all that. When he returns Roxas is leaning against the wall, apparently in an attempt to keep himself awake. He is halfway through the report.

“Thanks,” he says when Axel hands him his coffee and puts the paper down. He rolls his shoulders – Axel can hear the faint cracking of his joints – and he takes a long sip of his coffee, eyes closing in silent relief.

Suddenly his eyes fly open and then narrow at Axel. “Did you put milk in it?” he asks. Axel shrugs, briefly wondering if he remembered it wrong, “Yes?”

“I never take milk in my coffee,” Roxas says. “Xion does.”

“You do, when you’re tired,” Axel says, and yeah, it must be the late hour, because why the fuck are they arguing about coffee? “Like when you haven’t slept well you put milk in your first cup.” He shrugs, feeling more and more insecure under the intense stare of Roxas. “Sorry if I got it wrong, but it’s late so I thought it might help?”

Roxas still stares at him, then at his coffee. Axel can’t read his expression, but there’s an air of determination to Roxas when he sets down his mug, hard, so that the porcelain clicks sharply against the wooden surface of the desk. He takes a deep breath and says, “Fair warning: If I’m reading this wrong I’ll pretend this never happened.” Axel isn’t sure what he means by that and a moment later he doesn’t really care either, because suddenly, there’s a hand fisted in his shirt, pulling him forward and Roxas is kissing him, lips rough and soft and hungry and uncertain. He moves back after a second, his eyes bright and searching for Axel’s gaze, but Axel doesn’t let him get too far away.

He pulls him flush against his chest, one arm on Roxas’ back and one cradling his cheek. He feels the tips of Roxas’ hair brush against his fingers, easily tilting his head upwards as Axel leans down. There’s no coherent thought left in Axel’s head when their lips meet again. All he can do is _feel_ when everything zooms in on this point of contact: the push and pull of Roxas’ lips, firm and demanding against his own, parting eagerly when Axel presses closer. He tastes like dark chocolate and coffee, and warmth and happiness and _finally_.

He doesn’t even realise that they’ve walked backwards until Roxas’ hips hit their desks. Axel’s monitor sways dangerously, several pens clatter to the ground. Axel reaches out to keep his potted plant from crashing to the ground, the other hand still secure around Roxas’ waist.

“Woah, careful,” he says and pushes the pot into the secure middle of his desk without quite looking, too mesmerized by the expression on Roxas’ face, “You almost toppled Rex.”

Roxas looks slightly breathless, his eyes brighter than Axel has seen them ever before. “Thought you didn’t like him,” he says, and reaches up to brush some strands of hair out of his eyes.

“Nah,” Axel says, leaning down again because he really, really wants to keep kissing Roxas. “I just didn’t know what to make of him at first. But he’s grown on me over the last couple months.”

Roxas pulls back slightly, enough to look, really look at Axel. His eyes sparkle with mirth and his grin is wide and reveals his teeth and fuck, Axel can feel his heartbeat quicken at the sight of that.

“’s that so?” Roxas asks, and Axel finds himself nodding, caught awkwardly between the desire to keep kissing Roxas and to keep watching him for, well, ever. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Roxas says, grapping the lapels of Axel’s jacket to pull him down towards him, “I think Rex has started to like you to.” They’re both grinning now, and Axel brushes his nose against Roxas’ before he kisses him again, more slowly this time. He’s acutely aware of Roxas’ hands in his hair, of the contrast between Roxas’ soft sweater and the hard edge of his leather belt and the hot sliver of skin Axel can feel between them.

“We should have done this months ago,” Axel murmurs against Roxas’ lips, kissing away the reply the other man tries to form.

Roxas, it turns out, is not that easily distracted when he has something to say. He pushes against Axel’s chest, just enough to separate them a few inches. “I thought you don’t date co-workers,” Roxas says, and Axel feels relieved to hear that Roxas sounds just as breathless as Axel feels. Axel chuckles, “Oh that. Yeah. I remember. Turns out it’s a stupid rule that doesn’t matter when you really really like someone.” Roxas stares at him, his expression far more surprised than Axel thinks it should be. “What, you couldn’t tell?”

“I wasn’t sure,” Roxas replies, “I mean, there were times when I thought… but you’re _you_ , so I really couldn’t make sense of it.”

“I saved every picture you sent me, starting with the pictures from the office and the selfies from your brother’s wedding,” Axel says. “I still have the ribbon you tied around Rex’ pot in my drawer. I started reading the Sherlock Holmes stories and I tried to learn how to make pizza, but apparently I really suck at cooking and I gave up after the dough exploded on me for the second time.”

Roxas continues to stare at him for a long moment, eyes glittering with some unnamed emotion, his expression unreadable. His voice sounds weirdly hoarse when he says, “You’re right. We should have done this months ago.” This time it’s Roxas who doesn’t leave an opportunity for Axel to respond before he rises up on toes, his fingers tangled with Axel’s hair.

But Axel still can’t quite get his brain to shut up, can’t completely shut down the millions of questions floating in his mind. “Just for the record,” he asks, and marvels at how Roxas’ sweater feels exactly as soft as he imagined it would, warmed by the skin of the man wearing it, “Does this mean we…”

“ _Yes_ ,” Roxas says impatiently, not bothering to hear out the question, and Axel laughs against his lips because if this is the answer, maybe the question didn’t really matter that much.

* * *

Much, much later, they send out the email. 


	5. The View From Above

They intend to keep quiet about what’s going on between them. At first, at least. 

But Xion takes one long, knowing look at them when they arrive at the office together the next morning, takes in Axel’s more-than-usually rumpled appearance and the dark circles under both of their eyes before she smiles brilliantly at them.

“Let’s all go out for ice-cream tonight,” she says. “To celebrate. My treat.”

Axel grins and Roxas stares at her for a long moment before he marches over and pulls her into a tight hug, murmuring something in her ear that Axel can’t make out but that makes Xion smile brightly when she returns the embrace. He just knows he’s almost as thankful for having Xion as he is for having Roxas.

The rest of the time they try to keep things office-casual between them, which isn’t easy, because Axel kind of wants to shout it from the rooftops, and Roxas catches himself embarrassingly often staring at Axel with a stupid grin on his face, only to find the other man grinning back at him.

They do, however, discover a couple of new things about the workplace. Roxas finds out that he can fit his leg in the space between their computers under their desks to stretch it long enough to be able to reach Axel’s shin. Axel discovers that there’s a convenient nook between the coffee machine and the supply room, out of sight from any desks or office doors and perfect for pressing a quick kiss against your new boyfriend’s lips.

Axel also learns why people connect the idea of butterflies to being in love, which had never made sense to him previously, but now something inside his stomach flutters weirdly when he looks at Roxas sitting across from him and thinks “I’m dating this man. We’re dating. This is my boyfriend.”

_Boyfriend._

_Fuck yes._

* * *

Their first attempt at sex is nothing short of catastrophic.

It begins pleasantly enough, with them lazily making out on Roxas’ couch, the film they’ve been watching long forgotten. Roxas has been in Axel’s lap for ten minutes, held firmly in place by the other man’s hands on his hips, which are travelling lower by the minute. Roxas’ lower lip is trapped between Axel’s teeth, a soft, delicious pull, and when a tingling feeling slowly spreads through Roxas’ stomach and moves lower, he congratulates himself on having the foresight to stock up on condoms this afternoon.

Axel is trailing slow kisses down the side of his neck next and okay, this is nice, but then Axel licks his skin, right beneath Roxas’ left ear and yeah, _no_ , no measure of being turned on is _ever_ going to make this pleasurable. Roxas’ reaction is purely instinctive: his shoulder jerks up to protect his ear from the unwanted attention and hits Axel somewhere between his chin and his cheek.

“ _Ow_ ,” Axel says. He leans back and rubs his yaw, glaring at Roxas. “What the…”

“Sorry,” Roxas answers and wipes over his neck to get rid of the tingling sensation haunting his skin. “Didn’t mean to do that. It’s just…” He feels a shiver run down his spine at the memory of the sensation, and not the pleasant kind. “I don’t think that’s something I’m into,” he says. The moment he says it he’s convinced it sounds bad, like a rejection, which it _isn’t_. His gaze snaps up to Axel, and he is relieved to see Axel looking a bit dazed and thoughtful, but neither mad nor crushed by Roxas’ explanation.

“No, hey, sure,” Axel says, holding up both his hands and he’s smiling, a small smile but it’s there. “It’s good that you tell me. I mean, that’s what this is about, right? Figuring out what works for us and what doesn’t?”

He doesn’t sound mad, which is a relief, so Roxas nods and for a moment, they’re just staring at each other. Roxas has no idea what to do now – has he shattered the mood? Is that it for tonight? – and he’s beyond relieved when Axel suddenly grins and leans forward, murmuring “Speaking of which…” and then they’re kissing again, closer than before, and Roxas’ hands are buried deep in Axel’s hair, and Axel’s hands are on his butt and okay, _this_ definitely works.

Things go almost smoothly for a while, until Roxas suddenly feels Axel’s whole body go rigid beneath him, feels the way his right leg jerks against his thigh. “Sorry,” Axel says, and his face is crunched up in a mixture of pain and urgency. “Cramp, can you…?” Roxas scoots off his lap immediately and then Axel is hopping through the living room, shaking out his leg and cursing quietly, while Roxas is trying to catch his breath. He watches Axel roll his feet and stretch his leg for a moment. He carefully tries to put weight on it, winces and resumes the hopping from before. This goes on for a couple of minutes until Axel sighs with relief, pushes his hair out of his face and grins at Roxas with a rueful expression.

“Sorry,” he says, “That was bad timing.”

Roxas shrugs and smiles and pushes himself up from the couch to walk over to his boyfriend. “It happens,” he says and grins up at Axel. He reaches out and intertwines their fingers, tugging Axel towards his bedroom, “Come on. Let’s take this somewhere else.”

Their short journey comes to a prolonged pause at the bedroom door when Axel presses him against the door frame while Roxas half-heartedly tries to find the doorknob for thirty seconds, before he gives up and concentrates rather on how Axel’s lean body is pushing him against the hard wood, lips firm and certain, his knee between Roxas’ thighs, his hair soft between Roxas’ fingers. He doesn’t have a clear concept on how much time passes, but in hindsight, they should have probably stayed there.

But finally, Axel grins against his lips and opens the door, careful to hold Roxas in his arms so that he’s not suddenly stumbling backwards. They slowly make their way towards the bed, pausing only briefly to discard Roxas’ shirt before continuing down the dark room, illuminated only by the light coming from the living room.

Suddenly, there’s a loud yelp, and the painful sound of flesh and bone meeting metal and then Axel’s arms are no longer around him. Roxas blinks, panics and fumbles for the light switch. Soft, jerky light immediately illuminates the scenery: Axel is pressing a hand against his forehead, eyes narrowed in either pain or anger while he glares at the lamp above him which swings slowly back and forth.

Roxas knows he’s shorter than Axel. He doesn’t like it, but he can’t deny the facts. However, he has not realised how _significantly_ shorter he is until he understands that Axel just crashed straight into the lamp above Roxas’ bed.

Roxas can’t help it. The murderous expression on Axel’s face, the way he’s glaring at the lamp, the fact that this is the _third_ time they’ve been interrupted: he starts laughing.

“Oh man,” he says and lets himself fall back on his bed, his whole body shaking with laughter, “Oh man, we’re _bad_ at this.”

“We’re _not_ bad at this,” Axel says, rubbing his forehead and hissing in pain when he fingers the outline of what will doubtlessly grow into a colourful bruise. Roxas knows it’s mean to keep laughing, but he can’t help the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

“Maybe we should stop,” he says and sits up, trying to catch his breath between his chuckles. “Before someone gets hurt. And by someone, I mean you.”

“But…” Axel replies, and he looks caught somewhere between disappointment and desperation, gesturing at Roxas and the bed with his left hand. “But… s _ex_!”

“I know,” Roxas replies, not trying to tone down his grin but refraining from going for the obvious pun when he sees Axel’s distraught expression. “But sex is not going anywhere and at the rate we’re going, I’m afraid we’ll have to call an ambulance next.”

Axel is silent for a moment, still rubbing his forehead, which is slowly turning red. When he finally speaks again, he’s not looking at Roxas, and his voice is small, “Are you disappointed?”

Roxas immediately stops grinning and scoots off the bed. “What?” he says and shoves Axel’s arm out of the way so he can cup both his cheeks with his hands and force him to look him in the eyes. “ _Disappointed_?” Axel nods, gaze still darting away from Roxas, and _this_ , this is far more intense than sex could be, he thinks: seeing Axel so open and vulnerable before him, not trying to hide his insecurity behind cockiness or showing off. He has a strange sense of his own power over the other man – the realisation that his next words _matter_. “I’m _not_ disappointed,” he says, staring at Axel with what he hopes is enough seriousness to show him that he means it. “If anything, I’m relieved.”

That actually gets Axel’s attention. “Relieved?” he repeats, his tone dubious.

Roxas nods. “Yeah,” he says, thinks about it for a second, and all of a sudden it’s surprisingly easy to voice his own insecurities, “I mean, I always thought you were this seductive fucker who just had to wink at someone to get into their pants and with, like, tons of experience with all the kinky stuff. And that I’d have no idea how to keep up and…” he shrugs, “It’s a relief, kinda, to see that… you’re just… _you_ , I guess. We’re just us.”

Axel is looking at him like he understands what Roxas is saying, which is great, because Roxas himself isn’t quite sure what he’s saying. More importantly though, Axel looks as if Roxas has said the right thing. “And that’s enough?” he asks, his tone serious.

Roxas smiles and raises up on his toes to be on at least some equal height with Axel so that he can pull his boyfriend towards him and into a kiss that’s slow and long and firm. “That’s _everything_ ,” he finally murmurs against Axel’s lips and he can feel Axel’s smile in the way his lips curve up, in the way his arms fold around him to pull Roxas against his chest for another kiss.

“Come on,” Roxas says when they finally, slowly part. “Let’s get you something for that bump on your forehead, and then we’ll watch the rest of that movie until the swelling goes down.”

“Just for the record,” Axel says when Roxas presses a bag of frozen peas against his forehead moments later, “I totally do have experience with all of the kinky stuff.” He winks, which looks less convincing than usual because there are currently flakes of ice dropping to his lashes and only half of his face is actually visible. “Like, all of it.”

Roxas snorts and pats his arm, “I’m sure you do, hot stuff, but let’s try to walk before we run, okay?”

And that’s precisely what they do.

* * *

While their first attempt at sex is disastrous, Axel takes comfort in knowing that it only takes them the rest of the night to become at least okay at it.

And the rest of weekend is enough to get them to what he considers pretty damn great. 

* * *

On a rainy Wednesday in mid-November, Saïx summons Axel to his office once again.

“No,” Axel says the moment the door falls shut behind him. Saïx looks at him, and his eyebrows rise in mild surprise. “No?” he repeats. He sounds amused, which irritates Axel like nothing else.

“No, I am not having this talk with you,” Axel says. “We’re fine, we’re doing great, everyone’s great, we sell shit, thanks for asking.”

Saïx’s expression of mild amusement doesn’t change and Axel feels ready to throw something.

“You haven’t even heard my question yet,” he says and it sounds almost patronising, like a parent chastising their unruly child.

“That’s because unless you want to give us all a raise or, you know, fire me, I’m not having this conversation with you,” Axel retorts. “I’m not telling you anything about Roxas or Xion. Not even how great they’re doing. Which they are, by the way.”

Saïx is looking at him, a long, measured stare, and the amusement is slowly fading away from his eyes.

“You changed, Axel,” he says. “A year ago, you weren’t so eager to defend your co-workers.”

“Yeah?” Axel replies, his voice still sharp, “Well, maybe that’s because I didn’t think the people I was working with back then were worth defending.”

“But these two are?”

“Yes,” Axel hisses, “ _Yes_ , they are.”

“So, the rumours I heard about your relationship to Mr. Hikaru being a bit more personal…”

“Okay, _no_ ,” Axel interrupts him. “Fuck you, Saïx, thanks for the talk, have a great day.”

He walks out of the office without a second glance behind him. Only when he’s out in the corridor, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile when Xigbar walks by and gives him a quizzical look, does it occur to him that this might have been an honest, but not necessarily a smart move on his side.

_Oh well_ , he thinks and walks towards the coffee machine because he feels like he has earned himself an afternoon treat, _so be it_.

He’s walked the balance act long enough. Maybe it’s time to finally choose a side.

* * *

“Hey princeling,” Larxene sneers at Roxas when he walks past her desk. “Have you seen this?”

She shoves her phone right into his face and Roxas makes the mistake to be startled enough to stop walking long enough to read the headline: “ _Highwind_ CEO honoured with P.A.P.U. Award – Youngest recipient in history.” Below is the upper half of a picture that shows Sora smiling sheepishly as he shakes the hand of a grey-haired official. Roxas notices Ven and Riku in the row of people behind him – Ven is clapping and Riku has crossed his arms in front of his chest but has that stupidly proud and enchanted smile on his lips he always shows when he’s looking at Sora.

“What about it?” he asks, and he’s glad when his voice sounds as bored and indifferent as he desperately _wants_ it to. He looks past the screen at Larxene, who snickers. “Well, I’m still wondering what the hell you’re doing here, of all places, when you could be over there with them, winning awards?” She raises her left eyebrow, her tone sugary-sweet. “Unless, of course, they don’t want you over there. Cause you’re no help when it comes to winning prizes.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Roxas says and walks past her without a glance back, knowing that this is not worth picking a fight over. Suddenly, he feels tired and weirdly drained, and he’s glad when he can sit down in the silence of his office. Axel and Xion are still downstairs at the cafeteria, waiting for the second round of chocolate lava cake the cook promised would arrive any minute now. Roxas had been tempted to, but he’d opted for a salad along with his pizza, and would as he could there’s a limit to his stomach’s capacity.

He regrets the salad now, and the pizza, as he stares at his monitor for a long minute, his stomach churning.

It’s probably a bad idea. He knows that. But he still opens his search engine and types in “Highwind P.A.P.U. award.” The result is a flood of newspaper articles, mostly from business blogs and magazines. Roxas clicks one of them at random.

_… is the youngest CEO to receive the prestigious P.A.P.U. award, which was been created by Y. Sid in 2002. The award is gifted annually for outstanding corporate commitment to humanitarian causes. The winner is selected by a judging panel, which rotates each year, selected and supervised by Mr. Sid. The award comes with a substantial prize sum (though exact figures are never disclosed), money which Mr Hikaru promised to invest in the creation of the_ Highwind _foundation, an endeavour he announced at a press conference last year. The foundation aims to help homeless children and youth, especially LGBTQ teenagers, with accommodation, health insurance and education. This is the third prestigious award for_ Highwind Enterprise _this year: in June, they were awarded the Green Prize by the Seymour University and Research Centre, and last week the company received the Gepetto Award for outstanding commitment to sustainability._

The picture is different from the one on the article Larxene showed him. This one shows Sora next to small, black-haired man in a black suit, shaking his hand while the other man hands him a small figurine made from gold and glass which looks vaguely like a star. Sora is smiling, happy and puzzled, like he isn’t quite sure how he ended up on the stage.

Roxas doesn’t know how long he keeps staring at the picture, unable to look away.

He didn’t know about any of the prizes. Ven and Sora are careful to discuss anything but business with him, eager not to shatter the tentative bridges they’re building between the three of them. But he knows how important this is for Sora. Sora wasn’t made to be CEO, not really. Sure, he works hard, but he has no true sense for business decisions or affinity for figures. He’s lucky to have Riku by his side, Riku who’s brilliant at handling business, gaining oversight and making quick decisions. Sora, however, has always been a brilliant leader. He’s earnest and charming, with the strongest moral compass Roxas has ever seen on anyone. He cares for everyone he meets and he possesses an unfailing sense of optimism, a “Yes we can”-attitude that draws people towards him. He inspires people, and Roxas knows that more than anything else, Sora wants to leave the world a better place than he found it.

The awards are such a big recognition for Sora. An honour, a sign that he is on the right path.

And Roxas had no idea.

“Rox?”

He flinches when a hand cups his shoulder, so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice his boyfriend approaching him.

“Are you okay?” Axel asks. He has chocolate on his cheek and a worried frown on his forehead. “You look really out of it.”

“I’m okay,” Roxas says, but of course Axel is already looking at his screen, already reading the headlines and looking at the picture of Sora accepting his prize.

“Ah,” is all he says, and he sits down on the edge of Roxas’ desk, his gaze no less concerned than before. “I see. Wanna talk about it?”

_Not really_ is what Roxas’s first instinct is telling him to reply. But then he thinks about it for a second longer, and huh. Maybe he should.

“I’m happy for him, you know?” he says. “He deserves it. It’s just… he didn’t say anything. He won the fucking P.A.P.U. award and he didn’t tell me.” He draws in a deep breath, “It’s… I really fucked things up between us when I left, and I didn’t want that. But at the same time, it’s… he’s making such a difference, and I’m here, reading…” he looks at the stack of papers in front of him, “reading up on whatever the fuck Xehanort needs thirteen containers for, and it just all feels so fucking pointless sometimes.”

He takes a shaky breath through his nose, but he feels calmer when he looks at Axel, who’s been watching him patiently. “That’s it. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Axel says, slowly. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Roxas thinks about it for a moment, then shakes his head. “No,” he says, “This is something I have to figure out by myself.”

Axel nods, slowly. Roxas notices how the fingers of Axel’s right hand, which has been resting on his knee, twitch briefly, as if wanting to reach out but holding themselves back. As Roxas watches them curl into a fist, he adds, “Except, you know. You already make it better. By being you. And being here.”

“Awww Rox,” Axel drawls, when Roxas looks up at him, the grin on his face is equal parts touched and teasing. “I didn’t know I got myself such a romantic for a boyfriend.”

“You have chocolate on your face,” Roxas replies and shoves him off his desk. He doesn’t feel okay, not yet, but when he and Axel continue to bicker about whether Roxas is supposed to lick it off or not, he realises that he feels lighter than before.

And that matters.

* * *

“You don’t have to save the world, you know,” Axel murmurs against Roxas’ skin later that night.

They’re in Axel’s apartment. They’ve eaten pizza (again), and Roxas has beaten every single one of his high scores at the Mario Party mini-games. It’s late and they should be asleep, but Axel can’t stop thinking about the way Roxas looked at that newspaper article. He feels Roxas move in his arms, scooting closer until his back is flush against Axel’s chest. Axel buries his nose his Roxas’ hair, soft after being washed in the shower.

“I know that’s what your brother is trying to do, and that’s great. But I was thinking that, perhaps you don’t even realise, but you saved _me_ three times today.” There’s a questioning noise coming from Roxas, a hum Axel can feel as much as he can hear it. Encouraged, he continues, “You got me coffee, you stopped me from throwing said coffee at Demyx’ thick skull, and you rescued me from the paper jam of doom.”

He doesn’t know if this is the right thing to say, but he feels like he needs to say it.

“And you took over two of Xion’s reports so that she could leave earlier today, and you offered Zexion some of your favourite chocolate when he looked like he was having a break-down after coming out of Xemnas’ office.” He shrugs, “Maybe it’s not, like, nobel-prize-worthy, or anything. But I thought you should know it means a lot. To me, and to the others.”

There’s a moment of prolonged silence, and for a second, Axel thinks Roxas might already be asleep.

But then Roxas shifts silently in his arms, and Axel can taste both his smile and his tears against his lips.

* * *

Axel tells Roxas about his “sordid family” late one night in November.

He tells him about two divorces and stepfathers and stepmoms who “weren’t the best at the parenting thing”, as he mildly puts it. He tells him how Kairi stumbled in his life, five years younger than him and already twice as fierce. He tells him about parents who were absent often, who had many friends that they’d liked to impress and children they didn’t care much about, about unpaid bills piling up in drawers, about power-outs and living without running water for a week, about feeling helpless and yet desperate to fix everything.

When Axel was seventeen, he realised he couldn’t fix everything.

When he turned eighteen, he sued for custody.

“Emotional neglect” and “financial responsibility” were the favourite terms of his lawyer. Axel didn’t care, he only cared that it meant that after six months, Kairi moved in with him. He worked three jobs in addition to college classes. Kairi worked two, which was pretty illegal and not what Axel wanted, but he couldn’t dissuade her from doing what she called “pulling her weight.”

He managed his degree, somehow. Jobs were scarce, he tells Roxas, but he got an offer from _K.H. Industries_ after he called his old college friend Saïx – which was the best thing to happen to them. A stable job meant that Kairi could concentrate on her finals, which she aced, and for which she was awarded a scholarship.

“We’ve been fine, you know,” Axel says, his head resting on Roxas’ thigh and his fingers playing idly with the drawstrings of Roxas’ hoodie. “In many ways, we got lucky.”

“Are you still in contact with your parents?” Roxas asks quietly. He cards his fingers through the soft strands of Axel’s hair. The roots have gotten really dark, but the tips have lost nothing of their brightness. He can feel Axel’s shrug against his leg.

“I call my mom sometimes,” he says. “Not more than twice a year though. Kairi cut ties with her parents completely and I get why. I think it’s easier for her this way. But I…” He pauses for a long moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I just feel better knowing if they’re alive. And where they live and stuff. It’s not… we don’t _talk_ , not really. But otherwise… otherwise it’s like a blind spot, and I hate that, and I spend way more time worrying about the _what_ _ifs_ than the ten minutes I spend screaming into a pillow after calling.”

Roxas notices that his fingers are tangled into the red mess of Axel’s hair and balled into tight fists. He hastily opens them, though Axel seems unperturbed by Roxas tugging at the strands.

It’s crazy how different families are, Roxas thinks. Hayner never talks about his parents, but Roxas has known him long enough to piece together a clear picture from the puzzle pieces: Hayner crawling through his window late at night, asking quietly if he can stay; Hayner vanishing into the bathroom after receiving a bad grade and emerging with red eyes and a defiant expression in his eyes; Hayner moving in with Olette’s family half a year before he moved on to college.

Pence has always lived with his aunt and uncle, who own a small second-hand bookstore tucked away in the farthest corner of the main street. Every other afternoon the four of them spent in the dusty cellar, sorting through moldy boxes filled with books that Pence’s uncle bought at auctions and junkyards, emerging only when the smell of fresh apple pie wafted downstairs. Pence’s aunt never let them leave before they ate at least three slices.

Xion’s parents died in an accident a few years ago – she’s very open about that, and doesn’t try to mask the pain in her eyes when she talks about them.

Roxas knows he’s lucky. He’s always known, but hearing about Axel’s family puts it into stark contrast and fills him with no little amount of guilt when he thinks about his behaviour this past year, thinks about his endless complaints and complexes and Axel’s unerring patience.

He feels a bit like someone punched him in the stomach.

“Hey,” Axel says, and suddenly, there’s a finger poking at Roxas’ forehead, right between his eyebrows. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing,” Roxas says, and catches Axel’s finger when it doesn’t cease its attempts to smooth out his frown. “I was just thinking. It wasn’t about you.”

“I still want to hear it?”

“No,” Roxas says, “No. This _should_ be about you. That’s the point.”

Axel tilts his head to the side, his gaze scrutinizing Roxas’ expression, “I’m not following.”

“That’s fine,” Roxas assures him. “I told you, it’s nothing.”

Axel sighs, a deep, heartfelt sigh, and sits up in one smooth motion, throwing his leg over Roxas’ when he scoots closer. “You’re being needlessly complicated. Spill.”

“No,” Roxas says and crosses his arms in front of his chest when Axel pulls him between his legs, his long arms pleasantly caging him.

“Spill or I’m not getting naked tonight,” Axel says, his chin poking into Roxas’ shoulder. Roxas merely snorts, “There’s plenty we can do without being naked.”

Axel hums in agreement, “True, but that’s just half the fun.” He gently cups Roxas’ cheek with his hand, brushing over his skin once, twice, before he carefully tilts Roxas’ head enough to be able to look him in the eyes. “Come on Rox. What is it?”

Roxas contemplates his options for a second, contemplates changing the topic or denying Axel an answer, before he sighs and lets his body fall back against Axel’s chest, “How often have you thought I’m an entitled brat with first-world problems?”

“Once or twice,” Axel retorts without missing a beat. “Definitely during that whole ridiculous almond milk discussion you had with Marlux yesterday.”

“Yeah, no,” Roxas says, “First, I was right, and second, that’s not what I meant.” He tilts his head back far enough to be able to look at Axel, who is just. So. Fricking. _Tall_. “I mean, I keep bitching about my family and my brothers when they’re really not that bad and…”

“Oh, okay,” Axel says, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Okay, if that’s what this is about: let’s not do this, okay?”

“But…” Roxas objects, only to be silenced when Axel reaches for his hands and laces his fingers through Roxas’.

“You know,” Axel says and shrugs, “It’s not a competition. Or if it is, nobody’s winning. I remember that first team meeting – you were fucking _miserable_ , Roxas. And yeah, maybe I don’t always fully get why, but you know what? That’s okay.”

Roxas feels torn between wanting to believe in Axel’s answer, and the voice inside his head that tells him that it’s just not that easy. But if Axel is fine with this, if this is how Axel wants to leave it, then who is he to demand to continue his own pity-party?

“Okay,” Roxas says. “But, can you tell me when I’m being an ass? I think I need that sometimes.”

Axel grins, “Yeah, I can do that.” He leans forward, far enough that his nose is almost touching Roxas’, “Speaking of ass…”

It’s years of experience that comes from fighting with two brothers that give Roxas the ability to untangle his fingers from Axel’s, reach back and shove against his chest, hard enough that Axel falls, laughing, back against his pillows. 

There really is a lot, Roxas thinks, when he turns around and climbs over Axel’s legs, a lot he has to thank his family for.

* * *

“Do you ever think about leaving?” Roxas asks.

“Leaving what?” Axel asks from where he’s sitting crouched at Roxas’ kitchen counter, peeling a carrot carefully. Roxas is sitting across from him, attacking an onion with a knife like it’s the first time he’s ever done that. Given what Axel knows about Roxas’ eating habits, it might be. “The town? I actually like it here. Lots of high-quality local dairy products to eat and cute blond co-workers to date…”

Roxas rolls his eyes and just narrowly avoids cutting into his finger when he continues to slice the onion on his chopping board. He’s not more talented at this whole cooking thing than Axel is. Axel briefly remembers what got him into the mess of a home-cooked meal: Ventus was over earlier this week for videogames and dinner, and when Roxas and Axel opted for ordering pizza he chewed their ears off about the right nutrition and sports and how the body changes once you turn thirty.

And the thing Axel hates most about this is that he knows that Ventus is right.

So Roxas and he now have membership cards for the local gym and visited the fucking farmer’s market today. Which made for some cute selfies in front of colourful fruits and a lot of guilt-driven purchases Axel isn’t sure what to with.

They decided to make a salad.

“Not what I meant,” Roxas says. He blinks rapidly and wipes at the corners of his eyes. “I meant: have you ever thought about leaving the company?”

Axel pauses, his fingers tapping against his carrot twice before he shakes his head, “Nah, not really. I mean, the pay’s really good, and the people aren’t too bad. I could tell you about the jobs I had before…”

He stills and looks at Roxas, suddenly feeling uncertain. “Do _you_ want to leave?” he asks quietly.

Roxas shrugs. There are tears running down his cheeks, which would worry Axel were it not for the murderous glare Roxas directs at the chunks of onion on his chopping board.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I think about it sometimes. I mean, do you _like_ working for people like Xemnas or Xehanort?” He lifts the board to throw the uneven pieces of onion into the salad bowl, right on the slices of cucumber (vaguely even) and tomatoes (a massacre). “I mean, it’s fine, for now. But you can’t deny that half of the projects that we have are kinda… questionable? I mean, we work with Nestlé, for fuck’s sake. And the other half is on the password-protected area on the intranet, which, yeah, doesn’t look shady at all.”

Axel can’t deny any of this, because Roxas is right. It’s the aspect of his job that Axel doesn’t like to dwell on, the one he usually shoves away into the periphery of his consciousness.

Roxas takes another onion, glares at it and puts it back into the bowl of vegetables sitting between them. “So yeah,” he says, “Sometimes, I think it would be better to go somewhere else. Start somewhere new. Somewhere with, you know. A little more perspective?”

Axel nods, slowly. He never considered leaving, not really. Maybe it’s because he still feels grateful for getting a chance when he needed it most. Maybe he still clings on to the hope that Saïx could one day stop hero-worshipping Xemnas and return to the kind man Axel knew many years ago.

But the thing is. Roxas has a point. 

“I understand,” Axel says. “And I don’t disagree. Just… tell me when you decide to leave, okay? Because, you know. I’d like to know where you’re going.” He runs a hand through his hair, “Because I might want to think about coming with you.”

He’s not looking at Roxas when he says it, because that would make it too much of a promise, and he’s not sure he can give that promise yet.

But he hears the smile in Roxas’ voice when he replies, “Sure. I can do that.”

* * *

Roxas meets Kairi for the first time when she visits her brother over Christmas and he is immediately and absolutely charmed by how she teases Axel mercilessly. He brings both of them along to his family’s Christmas party and it doesn’t take more than two hours and plenty of eggnog before Sora, Riku and Kairi giggle together like they’ve been best friends all their lives.

He invites Xion too, and she and Axel spend the first half hour hovering uncertainly by Roxas’ elbows, maybe intimidated by the number of guests (which Sora has thankfully kept down to the absolute minimum of eighty people) or the giant Christmas trees and rows of mistletoe and holly decorating the venue (because both Sora and Riku are, for some reason, gaga for Christmas). Roxas quickly introduces them to Ventus’ friends, Aqua and Terra (Roxas is convinced they have mentally adopted Ven as their own, which is a weird dynamic for a friendship but seems to work for them), because they’re among the saner people here. Aqua immediately takes a liking to Xion, and Roxas smiles happily when he sees them chat pleasantly about college and career options.

Ventus promises Axel to hunt down embarrassing baby pictures of Roxas, because “That’s what brothers-in-law are for, my man” and oh _no_ , Roxas really should have paid more attention to how much Ventus had to drink. He drags Axel away from his twin at the first opportunity, desperate to introduce him to his hopefully more sober friends.

He didn’t actually _invite_ Hayner, Olette and Pence, mostly because they’ve been to the party every year since high school and he knows they would have shown up either way, desperately curious to meet ‘his boyfriend’, because fuck, that’s what people do, right? Introduce their boyfriends to their family?

“Man, you really helped us out in London,” Hayner says. He’s wearing a Santa hat on his blond hair, which is almost boring compared to the plush reindeer antlers sprouting from Pence’s dark hair or the blinking lights intertwined with Olette’s dark curls. “We would have been lost without that first clue.”

“I’m glad my ability to type words into an online search engine is appreciated,” Axel replies, and Pence grins. “If you want to, you could come along in the summer,” Pence says, ignoring the way Roxas is glaring at him because hello? It’s his job to invite his own boyfriend, thank you very much. “It’s about art theft and we’re going to Paris for a whole week. It’s the tour with the best online reviews and I’m sure it’s going to be awesome.”

“Thanks,” Axel says, a little awkwardly, and he’s carding his fingers through his hair and desperately searching for Roxas’ gaze, his eyes communicating something between _Is this okay?_ and _Help!_. “I appreciate the offer. It’s just, I don’t know how expensive these things are and…”

“You’re going,” a voice behind him says and Kairi wedges herself in between Olette and Roxas. Her cheeks are a little bit flushed – Roxas suspects either the heat or the eggnog – and she leans against Roxas in a way that feels easily familiar. “And don’t worry about money: it’s my treat, because I…” she pauses for dramatic effect, her hands spread out in front of her, and oh man, the sibling resemblance is uncanny. Is this what people see when they look at Roxas and Ven? “… have a job.”

Roxas turns around to fully look at her, surprised by the turn of events. Axel is staring at his sister too, apparently speechless for the first time since Roxas has known him. “What?” he finally says.

“At _Highwind Enterprise_ ,” she says and shrugs. “Sora mentioned that he needs a new human resources manager, I mentioned my summa cum laude and well, I start next Monday.”

Axel opens his mouth, closes it again, then opens it to ask Roxas, his voice weak, “Can he do that?”

“It’s Sora,” Roxas says easily, because if there’s one thing he knows it’s that Sora can do anything.

“Wait, is this even like, legal?” Axel asks. “I mean, you didn’t even have an interview or showed him an application or stuff…” Kairi shrugs and retorts something about him being a spoilsport, while Roxas offers, “I can ask.” He takes a deep breath and yells out across the room, his voice easily cutting through _Wham_ crooning something about last Christmas, “Hey, Sora! Don’t you have a company policy against favouritism?”

He enjoys the way almost everyone in the room flinches. Ventus’ head snaps up, and Aqua and Terra grin in benevolent amusement. Sora spins around so quickly that he almost topples over and lands on his ass. His husband catches him at the last second and steadies him before he glares at Roxas, as if he’s to blame for Sora’s clearly inebriated state.

“It’s not favir… favouritism,” Sora yells back, leaning heavily on Riku’s arm, “It’s a six-week trial run, and if Kairi sucks, we’ll fire her again.”

“I’m gonna make you eat your words, Hikaru,” Kairi yells back, and yeah, she fits right in with this crazy bunch. Sora laughs and flashes her a peace-sign which is both cute and seriously old school. Roxas sees how Riku discreetly presses a glass of water into Sora’s hand, and he winks at his brother-in-law in silent approval. Riku smiles back, his previous annoyance seemingly forgotten.

The evening draws on with a lot of embarrassing and hilarious moments, because Sora seems to have a weird inner alert whenever people are standing under mistletoes, much to Hayner’s and Terra’s dismay, and Axel spends five fucking minutes trying to convince Roxas to dance to Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’ (“But can’t you see, it’s _our_ song, Roxas!” “I hate you _so fucking much_!”).

There’s one moment though, when Roxas standing in a corner and Sora tumbles into his arms, smelling like eggnog and whatever was in those cocktails Kairi insisted on getting them. He holds onto Roxas’ shoulders, swaying ever so slightly, but his gaze is focused and earnest and raw when he looks at Roxas and asks, “Are we okay?”

Roxas opens his mouth, then thinks about his answer for a moment before he says, “We’re getting there.”

It’s the truth, and it’s so, _so_ much better than how they were last year, but for a second, he fears it might not be enough for Sora, who always wants everyone to be in a state of unconditional bliss. But Sora just continues to stare at him for a long moment, searching for something in Roxas’ gaze before he smiles, wide and happy and okay, yeah, drunk, before he collapses into Roxas’ arms and sobs, “I’m so glad to hear that.”

Roxas has to yell across the room again to get his brother-in-law to haul Sora away from him.

Considering all of these events, it’s really no wonder that Roxas himself is decidedly tipsy when he stumbles outside way after midnight and gasps when the cold winter air hits his face.

“We could still crash here,” Axel says when Roxas zips his jacket up almost to his nose. He reaches out and winds his scarf around Roxas’ neck, carefully tucking the ends into his collar. “Your brother offered like, eight times.”

“You’ve never seen them hungover,” Roxas says, remembering the morning after the wedding with a shudder that has nothing to do with the cold. “Trust me, you don’t want to be around in the morning to experience that.” He glances back at the house, “Are you sure we should just leave Xion and your sister here?”

“Xion is making friends, Roxas. I’m pretty sure I heard her and Aqua schedule a meeting for brunch next week, and Kai’s fine,” Axel replies. His arm is around Roxas’ shoulder, pulling him closer to his side, and steers them towards the shortcut through the park, which is brightly lit by the reflecting snow all around them. “She’s not even that drunk. She’s just having the time of her life.” He grins, “I’ve never seen anyone click as quickly as she did with your brother and his husband. Talk about love at first sight.”

“Yeah,” Roxas agrees. “Riku normally doesn’t warm up to people that quickly and he only spent like, two minutes glaring at her. He glared at _you_ for half an hour when he first met you. Maybe because you were talking to Sora the whole time.”

“He doesn’t have to worry. Brunet just doesn’t do it for me,” Axel sighs and grins, “Blond, short and nerdy – now that’s another thing entirely.”

Roxas shoves him with just enough force to send him stumbling off the path on the sidewalk and into the snow. “I’m _not_ short,” he exclaims. Now that Axel’s steadying presence has vanished from his side, he finds it much harder to stand without swaying lightly from side to side. “You’re just freakishly tall, and you like to give other people shit about their height.”

Axel looks like he’s ready to reply something, but instead, he grins and quickly leans down to scoop up some snow to form a ball, which he immediately throws at Roxas. Roxas doesn’t have time to react, he can’t even do so much as blink before the snowball hits the side of his neck, bursting and showering him with tiny snowflakes while a lot of wet, cold snow slides down his skin and under the protective layer of Axel’s scarf and his jacket. Roxas yelps, more out of rage than hurt. Axel looks absolutely surprised and horrified at his perfect aim, “Oh shit, Rox, I’m sor…” but Roxas wastes no time to let him finish the sentence – he charges, full speed, and sends Axel tumbling into the snow with him. Axel, however, is not one to go down without a fight, and they roll through the snow in a white flurry of snowflakes and limbs, before Roxas gives up and lets his head fall back against the soft snow beneath him.

Axel is on top of him, his long body flush against Roxas’, solid and warm in a way that Roxas can feel even through the million layers of clothing between them. His eyes are bright and sparkle with mirth, his cheeks are flushed and his messy hair obscures the left half of his face. He’s close, and he’s everything Roxas has ever wanted, and—

“I love you.” For a second, Roxas is sure that he has said the words himself. But then he sees how Axel’s breath hangs between them, white mist in the cold December night. He sees the expression on Axel’s face, sure and brave and certain and yet waiting for Roxas to say something.

Roxas doesn’t know what to say. All he can do is to grab the lapels of Axel’s coat and pull him down, his lips cold and chapped against Axel’s, but just for a moment, just long enough before Axel opens his lips, and everything becomes warmth and heat and home.

“Yeah, I know,” he replies when they finally part long enough to catch their breath. “It’s become quite apparent over those last weeks.”

Axel grins and bops his nose against Roxas’. “And?” he asks, his breath hot against Roxas’ cheek.

“I love you too,” Roxas says, and then they’re kissing again until it dawns on Roxas that they’re lying in a public park and that presumably only a layer of snow is separating them from dog poo and yeah, once he starts that train of thought this isn’t as romantic anymore.

He pushes Axel up and off of him, gently enough to communicate that this is not a rejection but a wish for relocation. Axel just grins and offers him a hand to pull him out of the snow, which Roxas takes gladly.

“So…” Axel grins and pulls Roxas against his side. “Your place or mine?”

Roxas grins at the cliché, and he can’t help but think that he wouldn’t mind that if sometime, in the no so distant future, “his place” and “Axel’s place” could become one and same.

* * *

Axel’s phone chimes shortly after lunch. The text is from Roxas, which is weird, because Roxas is sitting right across from him and pretends to be really engrossed in whatever nonsense he’s typing into his computer.

The text is a link to a website. Axel just continues to stare at Roxas, waiting patiently until the expression on Roxas’ face becomes annoyed. “Just open it,” he finally snaps, and Axel grins in satisfaction before he clicks on the link.

It’s a company website. _Clocktower Corp_. They’re a small start-up, apparently. The website’s really nice, their products are at least partly similar to those Axel’s used to work with. They have a long section on their green policy and working toward long-term sustainability, and an even longer one on team management and individual career opportunities.

“Sounds nice?” he says, his voice questioning. He has an idea of where this is going. Roxas nods, and adds after a pause, “They’re hiring. Pence told me about it. He’s thinking of applying.”

“Oh,” Axel says, because it makes sense now. Suddenly, his stomach feels weird, and he can’t blame that on the burger he had half an hour ago because that’s what he eats four out of five days and so far it never made him feel sick.

“Just…” Roxas says, carefully observing the change in Axel’s demeanour. His expression is guarded. “Just think about it, okay?”

Axel nods, because yeah. Thinking is fine. Thinking he can do. Thinking doesn’t harm anyone.

“I will,” he promises.

And he does.

But he doesn’t have an answer when Roxas asks him again.

* * *

“Am I being unfair?” Roxas says.

“For asking Axel to leave his secure position and holiday bonus behind to run off with you to some company with better ethics, but only like a sixty percent chance of lasting through the next three years in this economy?” Xion replies, takes a huge bite out of her burger, munches on it for a moment and says, around her mouthful of meat. “Depends.”

Roxas is used to this by now. At first the sight of Xion, delicate, fragile Xion with her soft sweaters and skirts with lace embroidery devouring a whole steak alongside two baskets of fries in less than three minutes, getting barbecue sauce all over her chin, shocked him to the core. But by now he has grown used to the fact that she eats like she’s never seen food before.

“I mean,” he says and grabs his fork to impale his pasta with perhaps more force than necessary. “He could just say no.”

“Of course he could,” Xion agrees. “Theoretically, he could say no. Just like I could stop eating this delicious burger and go for a salad instead.” She takes another bite and chews carefully, before she adds, “It’s not likely, but theoretically, it’s a possibility.”

Roxas glares at her. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Oh, sorry, my fault,” Xion replies, in that dry tone she sometimes employs, “I didn’t realise I was supposed to comfort you. I thought we were discussing the pros and cons of leaving the company. You know? Like adults.”

Roxas sighs and looks around the brightly lit cafeteria at the bottom floor of their office building. They’ve chosen a small table tucked away in a corner for their lunch, and while the room is crowded with various people from the building, Roxas doesn’t recognise any of the people sitting nearby. He still lowers his voice when he asks, “Run me through the list then. What do you think are the pros and cons?”

Xion hums thoughtfully and actually sets down her burger. “K.H. has been in the business for several years, so our jobs here are fairly secure,” she says and uses her fingers to tick off each point she makes. “Saïx is awful four days out of five, but we all can handle him and you keep telling me you’ve seen way worse than him. Plus,” she pauses, and searches for Roxas gaze, a small smile on her lips, “Working together with you two is pretty great.”

Roxas returns that smile easily, “Yeah. It is.”

Xion continues, “The cons: your family relation could turn out to be the sword of Damocles, since neither of us understands why exactly Xemnas hired you in the first place.” Roxas nods gravely and adds, “And my family is isn’t exactly happy about me working here either.”

“That too,” Xion agrees. Her voice is quiet when she says, “Also, we both have seen the reports. Does it seem to you like Xemnas is interested in taking the company in a more future-oriented direction?”

“Not exactly,” Roxas replies.

“Well, these are two very good reasons for you to look for something else,” Xion says. “I’m just not sure if they are good enough for Axel to leave as well.”

Roxas sighs and leans back in his chair. The noodles on his plate suddenly don’t look so appealing anymore.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think he feels like he owes them something. I don’t know.” He breathes in through his nose and holds it for a second before he releases it with a sigh. “It’s not my decision to make.”

Xion takes a long and thoughtful sip from her coke. “So, you’re definitely applying at _Clocktower_ though, right?”

“Yeah,” Roxas answers. “I just need to update my CV. I’ll send in the application next week. I already talked to someone on the phone about it. She sounded nice enough.”

“I was thinking, actually,” Xion says, taking a napkin and wiping her mouth. “Do you think they could use an experienced editor over there?”

Roxas stares at her for a long moment while he processes her question, and then ask, “Are you asking this for real?”

“Sure,” Xion shrugs. “I mean, I don’t particularly mind working here, but let’s face it, a lot of things could be better. Xemnas’ way of conducting decisions is tyrannical, most of our clients are nutjobs, the female quota here is appalling and if Saïx and Xemnas keep handling things like they do, my career options are extremely limited.” She smiles, her small, quiet smile, “Plus, you and Axel are the best thing about working here. If you leave, I’m coming with you.”

Roxas can’t do anything but stare at Xion, while slowly, the grin on his lips grows wider and wider. Xion, however, seems to take his lack of verbal answer as criticism: she asks, while an insecure frown appears on her forehead, “Unless, I mean, you think it’s a bad idea?”

Roxas shakes his head vehemently. “I’ll send you the number. The name’s Ms Gainsborough.” He reaches out to brush his fingers over Xion’s knuckles briefly. “They’ll be lucky to have you. As we are.”

Xion’s answer is a dazzling smile, and Roxas thinks he should tell her that more often.

* * *

Axel knows it’s a bad idea.

He knows it’s a really, really bad idea. But he hasn’t come up with a good one yet, and he’s running out of time and options, so he’s going with this one.

Maybe it should be enough that Roxas is asking him to come with him. Maybe the feeling in his gut telling him to get out while he still can should be enough. But it isn’t, and Axel knows the only way to decide is to see whether his suspicions are justified or not.

It’s not that hard to convince Xion and Roxas to leave without him. He just grimaces and points to the pile in front of him and waves them off when they try to offer their help. “Just go,” he says. “Go get some ice cream.” Roxas frowns, but he doesn’t argue. His gaze darts to the half-ajar door, maybe listening for any footsteps outside before he quickly leans down and brushes his lips against Axel’s. “I’ll make pasta,” he murmurs, “And if you’re not home by ten, I’ll be pissed.”

It’s also not hard to listen to the sound of his colleagues leaving one after the other, not hard to wait until the clock strikes half past eight and Axel is certain he’s the only one left in the office. It’s also not hard to sneak into Saïx’ office, an alibi report in his hands while he carefully avoids the two security cameras in the hallway.

What is hard, however, is the sinking feeling in his stomach when he closes the door to Saïx’ office behind him, and the growing realisation that he is about to cross a line that cannot be uncrossed later.

He approaches Saïx’ computer carefully, like a caged animal. It’s still running – Saïx never did shake some of his habits from college, much to Axel’s relief. He swiftly clicks on the intranet and hopes and prays that among the habits from college he didn’t shake is the habit to use the same password for every personal login. Axel actually holds his breath when he enters the combination of letters and numbers he remembers from shared laptops for university presentations, and when the password-protected area of the intranet loads within seconds he lets out a shaky laugh.

He scrolls through the folders and documents, data that only a few of his colleagues have access to. He’s surprised by the amount of them, and the cryptic names that half of them have. He starts to click through them at random, not understanding everything he reads but gathering enough that the tension he feels gives way to an increasing feeling of dread. Lists of business partners he wasn’t aware of… names and details of projects he had no idea they were involved in… ties to newspapers and politicians…

_Oh Fuck._

Axel makes sure to delete the browser history and the login dates before he leaves the office as silently as he entered it, the alibi report sitting innocently on Saïx’ desk.

He takes a deep breath when he steps out of the office building. The icy January wind bites through his jeans and ruffles his hair, and he’s almost thankful for the cold. It’s a sharp reminder that this is real, that what he learned was real. And that he’s making the right decision.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and dials Roxas’ number as he swiftly walks towards the nearest bus station.

“Hey babe,” he says easily, proud that his voice gives nothing away. “Just checking: who’d you say was in charge of applications at _Clocktower_ again?”

* * *

“Tell me, how long have you been with us, Mr. Hikaru?” Saïx asks. He leans back in his chair, his face betraying no emotion.

“11 months and three weeks,” Roxas says. If Saïx is surprised to hear that he knows the exact number, he doesn’t let it show on his face.

“Ah yes,” he continues, “almost a year then. And would you say that you have made an impact on the company?”

Roxas hesitates, surprised by the question, but just for a moment. “Perhaps not in the way you had hoped I would,” he says, his voice carefully neutral.

Saïx actually laughs at that, a short, clipped laugh, “No. Certainly not.” He leans forward and reaches for the letter Roxas placed on his desk. “Well, Mr Hikaru. I can’t say I’m surprised. From your first day here, I was convinced that the… conflict of interests concerning your family would interfere with our work here, one way or another.” He lets his eyes drift over the letter briefly before he carelessly drops it in one of his desk drawers.

“In a way,” he says, “I’m quite relieved this chapter has come to an end.”

His gaze, however, doesn’t convey any relief. It conveys the same hostility Roxas has grown used to over the past months.

“You know,” Roxas says slowly, “I even kinda liked it here. Not the whole, what did you call it? ‘Conflict of interest’. But you actually have a really good team. Everyone’s pretty dedicated, even if they’re not always seeing eye to eye.” He shrugs. “I hope I’ll have that at my next job too.”

“Well,” Saïx says, and he doesn’t try to keep the hostility out of his voice this time. “Considering the fact that both of your co-workers have scheduled appointments with me for this afternoon, I have no doubt that your hopes will prove true.”

“I suggest you discuss their decisions with them, not with me,” Roxas says, his tone firm.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Hikaru,” Saïx replies. “I will.”

Roxas knows he is dismissed, and he doesn’t look back when he walks out of the office.

He’s not sorry for leaving, but he is weirdly, oddly thankful for the experience, because it brought him here.

It got him Xion.

And Axel.

* * *

Saïx remains silent when Axel slides his notice over his desk.

He keeps staring at the document while Axel fidgets in his chair, twiddling his thumbs, tapping his foot. The silence grows heavier by the second, but Axel has decided he can’t be the one to break it this time.

He’s made up his mind.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity but might not have been more than a minute, Saïx raises his head.

“I see,” he says and reaches out to take the document. “I suppose this has something to do with your colleagues handing in their resignations this morning too.”

Axel’s chest feels too tight and has breathing always been this difficult? “Yeah, maybe,” he mumbles.

Saïx nods to himself, his expression carefully neutral. Axel thinks there’s something bitter in his eyes, but perhaps that’s just his imagination.

“So, where are you going?” Saïx asks, almost casually.

Axel hesitates, but he figures with their names already on the new website, it’s hardly a secret.

“ _Clocktower Corp_ ,” he replies. “They’re pretty new in town.”

“They are,” Saïx agrees, and his voice is too light. It makes the hair in Axel’s neck stand up in silent alarm. “And who knows how long they will last.”

He’s staring at Axel now, and his gaze is unnerving. “You know that the boss doesn’t think too highly about disloyal employees and traitors who abandon us. And…” he adds, almost as an afterthought, “neither do I.”

Suddenly, Axel barks out a laugh, harsh and stressed. “Oh, come on, Saïx,” he says, “What is this, mediaeval _warfare_? _Traitors_ , I mean, are you for real? We’re quitting our mildly important jobs here to go and do mildly important jobs over there, because Roxas and Xion feel more comfortable with their stance on ethics, and frankly, so do I. We’re not selling your company’s secrets, we’re not even working for one of your competitors. They’re in a completely different line of business.”

“So you admit it then,” Saïx says. “ _Roxas,_ ” and oh wow, Axel hates the way Saïx hisses the name, “is to blame for this.”

“It was his idea,” Axel admits, because where’s the sense in pretending anymore? “But honestly? I see his point. I don’t like where our company is heading, and I don’t like how you and the boss talk sometimes.” He shrugs. “That’s all.”

Saïx is still staring at him. “I shouldn’t have put him in your office,” he says. Axel smiles, a short, certain smile. “I doubt that would have changed anything,” he says.

Saïx snorts, his gaze dark. Axel thinks about those days in college, about long nights spent at libraries and even longer nights spent at random parties, high on alcohol and the attention of strangers, blinded by flashing lights and pounding rhythms. _Why do friends become strangers?_ he thinks, and _What if I’m as much to blame as him?_

He blinks when Saïx continues with his next question, “And you’re willing to give up everything you worked for, because _Roxas_ ,” and yeah, the hissing is starting to get under Axel’s skin, “feels ‘uncomfortable’?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Axel replies, and it’s a bit scary that he doesn’t even have to contemplate his answer. “Because frankly, he’s right.”

He sits back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest and stares defiantly at the other man. It is Saïx who looks away first.

“Then I guess there’s nothing else to say,” he says. “I will talk to the boss to see if he wants you to continue working until the end of the week. We’ll let you know when to collect your personal belongings.”

Axel nods. His legs feel heavy when he stands up, and he’s searching for something to say, something to make himself feel better.

“Saïx,” he says and hesitates briefly, “You know I’m thankful for everything, right?”

“You have a strange way of showing that,” Saïx says. His expression is hard and bitter.

“This doesn’t change that,” Axel says. “Because of you, I could put my sister through college. I’ll never forget that. It’s just…” he shrugs, “it’s time to move on.”

Saïx snorts, but doesn’t say anything. Axel waits for a few seconds longer, and when he realises that there’s nothing else forthcoming, he takes it as his cue to leave.

When he’s almost through the door, he pauses. “You know,” Axel says, half turning around to get one last glance at Saïx. “They’re still looking for people to hire.” He shrugs. “Might wanna think about joining the good guys. Who knows? Could turn out to be fun?”

Saïx stares at him, left eyebrow raised in bitter amusement.

“Yeah,” Axel says, “Didn’t think so. But I figured it was worth the try. To let you know the offer still stands.”

He waves with two fingers before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

* * *

“Your ice cream’s melting,” Roxas says.

Axel is sitting next to him. He’s been staring at the sunset over the calm waves, so engrossed in his thoughts that he hasn’t noticed the drops of ice cream slowly dripping down his fingers.

“Oh shit,” he says and lifts his fingers to lick off the ice cream. They’re sitting on their usual bench, each an ice cream stick in their hands and a box sitting next to their feet. Today they collected their personal stuff from the office, under the stern gaze of Saïx and Xaldin. The reactions to their resignations had been mixed. Vexen had been indifferent, Larxene spiteful and Zexion sad. Roxas is still struck by the realisation that he has grown used enough to the building, to Demyx’ incompetence and Larxene’s reliably daily dose of verbal vitriol that he might actually miss it.

Xion’s box is by far the biggest and the reason why they took the bus instead of walking to the beach. It almost overspills with all the knickknacks and memorabilia that have cluttered her desk, but Roxas likes looking at the colourful assortment of shells, stones and figures. His own box is the most modest out of all the three, just a simple cardboard box containing his headphones and his last stack of candy.

Axel’s box is equally small, which surprises Roxas. There’s two mugs which Axel dared to take back from the kitchen cupboard of doom, something for which he claims to be awaiting retaliation, a notebook and some folders. Rex is cradled safely in Axel’s arms and Roxas smiles when he looks at the two of them, curious to learn on Monday if the plant will join them in their new offices.

“I guess this is the last time we’ll be here after work,” Xion says wistfully. She has already finished her ice cream. Contrary to Roxas and Axel, she is not looking at the ocean though, but to the right, at the silhouette of the old clock tower by the station looming over the town. The building that will become their new home on Monday.

“Nah, it’s too far,” Axel replies. “But there are lots of cool bars around the station too.”

Xion nods. “And maybe some of our new colleagues will join us,” she says, her voice hopeful. Axel looks like he’s trying very hard not to look doubtful in the face of her optimism, but Roxas just snorts, “Yeah right. Because Mr Grumpy and Mr Crabby looked like fun to you?”

His job interview at _Clocktower_ was… an experience. Aerith Gainsborough, a nice and efficient woman in her thirties who Roxas had been in contact with previously had been flanked by two of her colleagues, a Mr Strife and a Mr Leonhart. The latter had been scowling at Roxas for the entire hour of the interview, hardly saying a word; the former had been too aloof to show even one facial expression to begin with, which Roxas found deeply unnerving. He had felt caught in a weird form of bad cop – good cop – bad cop scenario, and it was relief to hear afterwards that Axel and Xion hadn’t fared much better with them.

“I’m sure they’re nice people once you get to know them,” Xion says adamantly and lifts her box onto her knees. “First impressions can be deceiving. _You_ thought Axel was crazy when you first met him.”

Roxas turns to grin at his boyfriend. “I did,” he admits, and his tone betrays how grateful he is for the day he walked into an office where a red-headed idiot had somehow managed to set his computer on fire. 

Axel returns his grin easily and flips his ice-cream stick into the nearest bin. “And you were right,” he says. “I mean, why else would I be willing move to a company where I’ll be sharing an office with Mr Grumpy _and_ Mr Crabby?”

Roxas, who has been graced with the good fortune to work in Ms Gainsborough’s office, shrugs. “Because they offered you a surprisingly generous pay check and because you love me?”

Axel’s grin deepens and he leans forward to brush his lips against Roxas’. They’re cool and slightly sticky with the faintest trace of ice-cream, but his fingers are warm against Roxas’ cheek and he tastes like what Roxas has come to consider _home_.

“Both are true,” he replies a second later, his forehead resting against Roxas’ for a miniscule moment before he draws back.

There’s a small sound next to Roxas’, and he’s half turned around to Xion to apologise for the public display of affection when he sees that she’s not looking at him, but at the ice-cream stick left in his hand.

“ _Roxas_ ,” she says and points, and when Roxas follows her gaze he is surprised to find a word etched into the light wood of the stick. Axel leans forward over Roxas’ shoulder to get a better look at the word.

“Winner, huh?” he says, his tone equally surprised and apprehensive. Roxas looks at him, at his green eyes sparkling with curiosity, and at Xion, who’s biting her bottom lip in excitement, and he feels a warmth spreading through him that is slowly starting to feel familiar.

“Yeah,” he says, without looking at the stick again. “Yeah. I guess I am.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who was kind enough to leave kudos and/or comments, and to my better half, who proof-read this monster of a story ♥


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